


The Rising Sun

by theheroesfangirl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Good versus Evil, Rekindling, Romance, defeating evil, returning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheroesfangirl/pseuds/theheroesfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so if you are at all like me, the series finale of BBC's Merlin broke your heart. So I decided to pick up the story some 20 years into the future from the point of Arthur's death. </p><p>Arthur feels a stirring, he is waking. He rises from Lake Avalon, details of his life fuzzy. As he slowly begins to remember, he works his way back to Camelot to find Gwen, his queen and one true love. On his journey, he intercepts a company of young knights--knights of the round table, his knights--Time has passed, the men are very young, and no one recognizes him. He doesn't remember the entirety of his life, so he keeps his identity a secret. </p><p>Returning to Camelot holds many surprises, as this is the time of Albion's greatest need. A dangerous power has risen, and it seems even the great sorcerer Merlin, his best friend, has been unable to stop it alone. Reconnecting with his past as well as the uncertainty of the future holds many challenges. Will Arthur be able to meet them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Stirring

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. This part is just the beginning of the story. I'll establish a lot more if you all decide you like it. 
> 
> The rating for this fic is G. There will be some fight sequences, but nothing gory.

He was stirring. He had been detached from his body for so long that it felt strange to experience a slight tingling in his fingers. The reunion of soul and body was slow, he was gradually settling into the muscles one bit at a time. 

Arthur had been in Avalon for what felt like several eternities, his soul looking back at the world he had left through the small window on the shores of the island where Merlin had let him drift toward peace in the end. There wasn’t too much to see in this secluded piece of the world. The island was peaceful, a strong stone tower casting its long shadow onto the rippling waves of the lake. Despite his watchful gaze toward the outside world, Arthur was at peace. He had saved his kingdom, and together with Merlin, he had brought peace to Albion. That was all that mattered. 

As he felt his soul seeping down into his body’s chest, the thought occurred to him. If I am waking, my people need me once more. Most of him felt joy; he would be able to serve his people once again—but a small part of him was wary. What new opposition could be so urgent as to require his people’s most dire need? 

The feeling was returning to his legs, ankles, and now finally feet. His soul and body were once again whole. It was time…time to rise. Recalling how to stand returned immediately, and he slowly let his head pull up toward the light above the water. Instinctively, his right hand clasped what he expected to be empty water, but as he broke the water’s surface, he realized that Excalibur was in his grasp. His feet were beneath him in the shallows and his head still hung low, waiting to open his eyes until he was sure that he had really done it; that he was really here. The water dripped from his soaked blonde hair and continued with the rest of the droplets from his body to rejoin the lake. He still couldn't open his eyes, so instead he listened. There were birds, calling from the trees whose leaves rustled in the slight breeze. He could feel the wind kiss his face, and now that he was paying more attention, the rays of what had to be a rising sun. Arthur took a breath, drinking in the morning dew, and opened his eyes, blinking to let them adjust to morning light. 

His blue eyes were met with the images of what he already knew was there, from what his senses had just drunk in, but also from his memories. The last time he was on this side of the shore, he was dying. He had asked Merlin for one more thing. 

“Just hold me, please.” 

Merlin was near tears, and Arthur couldn't blame him. They were best friends. No matter how rocky things had begun or ever gotten in their friendship, they both knew they could always count on one another. The memory was painful, so Arthur tried not to dwell, but he couldn't suppress the memory of his last words to Merlin. 

“Thank you.”

Words he so very rarely uttered, especially to Merlin, his clotpole of a servant. He still said it that way in his head, even though he knew he had never truly meant any of the harsh things he had ever said about Merlin. Merlin…he was a sorcerer! For the first time in his reborn body, Arthur looked up. He half expected Merlin to be there waiting for him. All he saw was the forest. Perhaps that was a bit presumptuous, but something told Arthur that Merlin was more powerful than he had ever known, even more powerful than what Arthur had witnessed in that final battle at Camlann. How was he to know if Merlin was even still alive? A fair question, though deep within him, Arthur knew that Merlin lived, he had to. 

Trudging across the rough lake floor, Arthur’s feet finally touched the solid land of the shore. Immediately after his first footstep ashore, he was magically clothed. Nothing fancy, just a red tunic, black trousers, a simple cloak, and black boots. However, he was relieved to find a scabbard at his side. He slid Excalibur into its place and covered the hilt with his cloak. If there was anything he learned in his life before (that he remembered anyway) it was to be careful who you trust. Excalibur was valuable, and the potential that someone unsavory would recognized it was too great. Arthur didn't know why he had been recalled from the depths, but there was undoubtedly a good reason, and likely a dangerous one. Until he knew what threats he would be facing, it was imperative that he keep a low profile. Pulling his hood up to shroud his face, Arthur moved toward the direction of the forest. In all honesty, he could use a long walk to get reacquainted with his body again, and his recollection of the surrounding terrain was slightly fuzzy, a lot like most of his memories. He remembered his last few hours clearly, but not much else. It had been a long time since he traveled here, and in most recent times, he had been dying.


	2. The Wandering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur begins his journey to find his new purpose. His walk through the woods brings both clarity and confusion.

The trees looked taller. Of course, Arthur could have been imagining that. Though, he had to admit, even though he was newly reborn into this world, it did look different. Different than what he could remember, anyhow. What year was it? He had no idea how long he had been gone. Time didn't tick by the same way in his afterlife as it did in the real world. For all he knew, everyone he knew was dead. He hoped fiercely that they weren't. It was hard enough coming back from death, much less coming back to a new world where he knew only one person: Merlin. He had no idea where to even begin looking for him. The depth of the unknown was becoming overwhelming, so Arthur focused on what he did know for certain. 

The events closest to his death were the most clear in his memory. One of the few things that Arthur knew he would be unlikely to forget was the feeling of Mordred’s sword blazing through this abdomen, up toward his heart. Forged in a dragon’s breath, like Excalibur, and more painful than anything he had ever experienced. But, not even the searing pain that would eventually bring him to his death could compare with the agony in his heart. He had trusted Mordred, taken him under his wing. Made him the man that he had become, and even though Mordred had killed him Arthur still felt remorse for many things he had done when it came to the boy. Killing him hadn't been easy, but it was necessary, a crucial step toward ending the blood lust that was controlling the ruining events ripping through Albion like a plague. Arthur’s hesitation to kill the boy he had trained to become a powerful knight was undoubtedly a large reason he himself had met his end. 

Maybe his death had been fate—destiny. Arthur had never put too much stock into that type of belief before. Did he believe that there might be some things out of his control? Surely, but that was very different from there being a prearranged path that couldn't be deviated from. Though, dying and coming back definitely had weighed the scales a little differently in Arthur’s mind. Maybe fate had played its hand that day so long ago. Even grudgingly accepting that, Arthur had a feeling that fate wasn't quite done with him yet. 

The sun was high in the sky, passing its midpoint and beginning its slow descent into the west. To his surprise, Arthur realized that he had been walking for hours. The difference between time past the veil on Avalon and time here in Albion was almost jarring. Arthur was unused to following any sort of schedule that revolved around time. When he had first found himself on the other side, he had tried to keep track. Although at peace, he knew that one day he would be called back, and he wanted to know when that day would be, to prepare in some way. Though after countless days watching the sun’s journey across the waters of the lake, time lost all relevance to Arthur. The realization that he could never truly be prepared for his summoning settled in his mind like a gentle autumn rain, soothing instead of terrifying. He somehow knew that when he did get back, he would find a way to be the servant that his people needed him to be. 

The forest was thick around him, and he realized that he hadn't truly been paying attention to his surroundings. Through the hours he had simply let his feet carry him whatever way they seemed to want to go. Now, he began to look around in earnest. Going the wrong direction would be a bad start to this quest. Not that he knew exactly what that quest was. As it was he only remembered the basics of his life. Who he was, where he was from, people closest to him. Details were slightly elusive at this point. This wasn't a huge problem in the grand sight of things, but right now it was most definitely a problem. Mostly because he was unsure which way Camelot was—if it was still standing. General direction, maybe a fairly good guess, but Arthur had been in a form of limbo for an unspecified period of time, things looked different, and his senses weren't as sharpened as they would be after he fully settled back into having a body again. Though the Once and Future King was loathe to admit it, he was feeling a little lost. 

Arthur snorted in his mind. This was the sort of thing Merlin would do. Be lost in what should be fairly familiar territory. Merlin frequently got lost in the woods—or was that just something he made up to throw Arthur off the trail of his extracurricular sorcery activities? Who knows. It seems there were still a lot of things Arthur didn't know about Merlin. Granted his fuzzy-at-best-memory wasn't helping the situation, but he was positive there would be plenty of stories he would need hearing with the precursor “What Really Happened”. And Arthur planned to hear every single one of them, as soon as he was out of these god forsaken woods and had found that dollop head. 

For now, Arthur used what knowledge he could summon to direct his course. He felt like he could trust that instinct, because his heart was aching for someone. A woman he loved with all his soul. The painful need to reunite with his wife reassured him that he really and truly was alive again. It was a feeling that he had been slightly suppressing, however, because him being alive had drawbacks. First and foremost being that this fact could mean that so much time had passed that Guinevere could be long dead. 

The panging need to see Gwen again, to touch her, to feel her breath in his ear as he enveloped her petite frame against his large one was piercing through essentially every other thought in his mind. She was his other half, his guiding compass. He hoped that compass would pull him home. His separation from her was becoming a full awareness in his body again, which he found equally distressing and comforting. Because even though they were apart, and could possibly stay that way until he rejoined the next life, he was sure that his feeling would help him return to his home. Their home, where they had spent far too few years of their happy marriage. Even if Gwen was gone, which his heart refused to accept, at least he could still walk the halls that reminded him so fully of her and a love that couldn't be broken by time, space, death or rebirth. Whether he saw her in this second lifetime or the next, Arthur would love her until he was no longer capable of feeling anything at all, when his soul had been banished to whatever abyss there could possibly be. 

Night was falling, and his feet were too tired to continue. Finding a nice spot in a covered copse of trees, Arthur laid down to sleep. A rather strange sensation in comparison to the tireless expanse of his afterlife in Avalon. But, he was exhausted, and sleep found him quickly as he pulled his cloak closer around his body. The spring evening was warm, and he drifted off with the picture of Gwen’s perfect cocoa skin behind his eyelids and his hand protectively clasped around Excalibur beneath him. The night would quickly give way to a new dawn, and his return to his home and purpose would forge ahead.


	3. The Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Arthur's journey home continues, he meets a party he doesn't expect. It is a happy reunion, but what implications do the circumstances of their meeting have? Arthur decides that it is likely best to conceal his true identity until he knows more about the dynamics now holding sway in Albion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to get posted. I've been really busy! Enjoy, I hope you like this new step. :)

The sun rose over the treetops. The covered sanctuary that Arthur rested in was still mostly in shadow, but he was already awake. As the first rays of light touched the sky, turning it pink, Arthur could sense the coming dawn overtaking the land. Like the light was an extension of him, he stretched a hand up, spreading his fingers to watch the clouds capture the rays and begin to bring life back to the forest. 

It was still quiet, the creatures barely waking. In that solitude, Arthur could easily imagine being back on the island at Avalon. It wasn’t bad there. It was peaceful, quiet, and serene; much like it was right here in this moment. But he wasn’t in Avalon, he was back in Albion. Back to find purpose once again. He rose, retying his cloak and brushing grass from his trousers. He looked around the clearing, trying to determine which direction he should begin walking. He slid Excalibur back into its sheath as the birds began their morning chorus. 

Picking a direction wasn’t the most scientific of things. He was still relying almost entirely on instinct. His memory of this land still wasn’t fully returned to him. Gut feeling decided, he marched off into the trees. This or that looked familiar he told himself. Yes, he’d been here before. That wasn’t a lie. After all, he must have been all over when he was king. It wasn’t such a wild thing to say that he’d been on this exact path before. But Arthur knew that he was grasping at things that weren’t ready to be found yet. It made him feel better though, more in control. 

He walked on through the morning, listening to the natural sounds and convincing himself that he’d remember everything sooner rather than later. It was becoming difficult by early afternoon, however. He began to berate himself a little. Why would he know the way to his own castle? Of course he would be lost in the woods. Naturally!  
His temporary self-loathing was cut short—there was a new sound: shouting. It had been a long time since he’d heard that. Something else as well…a clanging, crashing—Swordplay! His hand immediately dropped down to Excalibur’s hilt. Those were the unmistakable sounds of a fight. Despite his long absence, his muscles automatically coiled, ready to defend against enemy blades. 

He waited a moment, pinpointing the exact path that would take him to the skirmish. It didn’t sound too large, he figured it was at the very least worth a look. He pulled Excalibur completely out of the sheath reluctantly. He still didn’t like the thought of anyone recognizing it, but if it came down to fighting true enemies, it was a risk he would have to take.  
There was little time for second thoughts; Arthur was already running as stealthily through the woods as he could manage. Spare concerns buzzed by in his head. He had no armor. Not necessarily a problem. Unless the battle was much bigger than he had judged. He also may have no idea who he should be defending. For all he knew, the dynamics and powers of this land could have changed drastically. Valid concerns. Arthur decided then as he ran that he would keep his distance at first, determine what he could, and then solidify his plan. 

Clanging became more prevalent, the shouting more distinct. Arthur pulled up his hood and quickly dove behind a wide tree as the battle became visible to him. His back against the bark, he took a deep breath. His body seemed to be in good shape, but he had no guarantee that everything would work as it should. Everything up to this point appeared to have been muscle memory. He could only pray that held up when it truly counted, when his life could most definitely be at risk.  
Leaning around the wide expanse of the tree, he took as good a look as he could manage through the foliage. He counted about fifteen men total. Parting the brush with his sword, he could separate the sides. There were ten men dressed in black. They had no coat of arms, no easily distinguishable marks or telling clothing. The other side had only five men. When he recognized them, his heart both soared and sank. 

The five men, who were outnumbered and barely holding their ground, had red capes. Red capes that clearly bore a golden dragon on the right shoulder—the Pendragon crest. His crest. They were knights of Camelot. His knights of the roundtable. Camelot still stood! He wasn’t able to get a close enough look at their faces to see if he recognized a single man. They fought fairly well. Not as well as the knights that he had trained, but well enough that they had not yet fallen to these men in black. That may not be the case in a few short minutes. Arthur acted instantly. 

Throwing himself into the fray, Arthur easily joined the battle. Wedging himself between his knights and the aggressors, he found that muscle memory had indeed not failed him. He was just as strong as he had been before Mordred had stabbed him, and his body recalled his fighting technique with no thought on his part. He beat back the first man, then a second. He was already moving on to a third when the knights seemed to fully recognize his presence. They froze for half a second, having no idea what to think of this new entrant. Gratitude seemed to win them over quickly though, and they rallied beside Arthur and turned the tide. It wasn’t long before they had defeated the other force, leaving men dead or running away through the trees. 

Five knights breathed heavily around him, but Arthur could scarcely breathe at all. This was a pivotal moment. He had rejoined his knights. What kind of shock would this be for them? He couldn’t simply melt away into the shadows now, and even if he could, he wouldn’t have been able to bear it. These men were his family. Even so, he kept his head fixed in place, not looking at any of them. 

They all stood there for a few minutes, no one speaking. The men just looked at Arthur, unsure what they should do. This stranger had jumped to their aid in the middle of a losing battle. Who was he? Finally, the leader among them found his voice. 

“We thank you, sir. We likely would not have succeeded without your help. You have the gratitude of Camelot.” 

Arthur couldn’t take it any longer; he looked up to examine the knights that surrounded him. The one who had spoken was tall with dark hair and blue eyes. He reminded Arthur of someone... Gwaine. The name came flooding back to him. It was him this young knight reminded him of, and he had to smile at that. Gwaine, despite his incessant need to chatter—that Arthur now remembered—was among the most loyal and brave people had ever met. He wondered what had become of him. This knight, despite any small look of resemblance, was much younger than Gwaine. In fact, as Arthur looked around him, he realized that all of these knights were incredibly young; younger than he likely would have allowed to go off on their own with no senior leader. None of the company here would recognize him. Arthur immediately sheathed Excalibur anyway. Turning to look the leader in the eye, he spoke. 

“It is you that I have to thank. Without men such as you, those rogues would likely be threatening innocent citizens,” he said this earnestly, though with a touch of humor. It was different, going unrecognized. 

The knights smiled at Arthur. Arthur’s instinct was to trust these men implicitly, but he knew that things could have changed greatly in his time away. It was best that he retained the secret of his true identity. He didn’t know who ruled his kingdom now. He didn’t even remember everything about his own life. Yes, keeping his secret would be best. 

“That is kind,” the lead knight said. Looking around at his comrades, he continued, “For such a kindness done to us, we are in your debt. Perhaps we can help you travel somewhere?” 

This was beyond Arthur’s hopes. These knights could take him straight back to Camelot. No more wandering around in what he not fondly called The Forest of Lost Arthur. His smile grew. Getting back to Camelot as quickly as possible would speed his quest, and hopefully he would be able to find Merlin and get down to what he was called back here to do. And Gwen…

“Yes, that would be ideal. I’m actually headed to your home gentlemen,” My home.

All the knights nodded in approval, flashing more smiles. 

“Excellent! Then we shall take you with us. My name is Fletcher. Fletch, if you’d like,” he added with enthusiasm. “Who do we have to thank for saving our hides?” he questioned good naturedly. 

Before he could think better, a name slipped from Arthur’s lips, “Gwaine.” 

He mentally grimaced. Naturally, he would remember that first as a result of Fletch’s resemblance to his former good humored companion. 

“Well then, Gwaine,” Fletch answered, “welcome to our party. Have you been to Camelot before?” he questioned as the men resumed their journey home. 

Falling in step beside them, Arthur replied honestly, “Not in a very long time…too long.”


	4. The Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Camelot is close to ending, and Arthur discovers more about the place Camelot is now. The question that persistently occupies his thoughts: what of his queen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I am soooo sorry that this literally took FOREVER to post. Life really has been in the way. I've been going through a lot of changes with work and some other things, so I just really haven't had the time. But the good news is that I have had a lot of time to think about how I want to approach things. So there's that! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Important questions will be answered!

Travel was now considerably easier for Arthur. Not having to worry about getting lost made that worried feeling that had been making its home in the pit of his stomach stop making him nauseous. It still lived there, however. After all, he still had to figure out what to do about his actual identity. How he was going to reintroduce himself back into Camelot. If that was even a good idea…How would he explain the gigantic-ish small lie that he had told his companions? 

Arthur shook his head. If he lingered on the swirling vortex of questions that rolled around in his head, he would surely go mad. He needed to focus on the world around him. Just because he was no longer having to find his way didn’t mean he didn’t want to relearn it. Camelot was his home, and a good first step back into life was figuring out how to get to his own castle. He scoffed at himself. Gwen and Merlin would laugh at him for sure. Those two had always been great friends, and teaming up on Arthur was one of their favorite pass times. A small smile immediately graced Arthur’s features. His two best friends in the entire world—he loved to imagine what they would think or say if they were there right next to him. The promise of perhaps seeing either one of them again made his heart beat faster with yearning. He had been alone a long time. 

Arthur’s sudden deep loneliness was abated some when the knights around him burst into rambunctious laughter at a joke he had missed. Breaking himself out of his thoughts, Arthur looked about, noticing the easy smiles on the men’s faces. They truly were so very young. Some of their faces still clung stubbornly to the baby fat from even younger years. Despite their youth, Arthur had to admit that they functioned very well as a group. They were decisive, cohesive, and got along very well. Their undoubtable loyalty to each other was unmistakable. Arthur knew this had very much to do with their leader. Fletch, for his part, was an easy person to follow. He was steady, confident without ego, and knew how to bring the best from his men. Arthur was continually impressed with the young man.  
Despite how easily he had fallen in with the group, Arthur knew he still had to remain vigilant. He still was in the dark on why he had been brought back. Not to mention…Arthur had once trusted a young knight, not too unlike any of these, and it had cost him his life. Still though, Arthur wanted more than anything to trust these men implicitly. So while he was aware, he gave them every benefit of the doubt. 

It had been a while since he had spoken. Too lost in thought. His time in Avalon had made silence a ready companion; one he was used to. Clearing his throat, Arthur found his voice, which had fallen into disuse. 

“Fletch, if you don’t mind me asking, how far from Camelot are we?” Arthur said the words slowly, still getting used to the sound of his voice. He eyed the sky, noting that the sun would be setting in the next hour or so. 

Fletch looked back from the front of the company with a smile. 

“I’m glad you asked Gwaine.” 

Arthur still mentally grimaced at the name. As much as he had cared for Gwaine, having his name attached to him felt strange. He didn’t know why it felt as significant as it did. Like there was a real reason that it bothered him so. He shrugged it off though, and listened to Fletch gently rib his companions good naturedly.  
“As I was just telling my compatriots—some of whom STILL cannot find their way through these woods—” Fletch eyed a couple of the younger knights who cleared their throats uncomfortably. “We are a little less than a half day from Camelot. We’ll make camp in a half and hour, rest the night and continue in the morning. Tomorrow we should arrive shortly before midday. Then, Gwaine, I would love the honor of reintroducing you to our city. Camelot is beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful than you remember it!” Fletch’s voice hummed with pride. Arthur couldn’t help but smile at that. 

Camelot had seen a lot of dark days in Arthur’s lifetime. Someone was always trying to tear down the beautiful city. From dragons to his own sister. Morgana…the name sent tremors through him. How the sister he loved so dearly became so dark, he didn’t think he’d ever truly understand. Even though she had killed so many people, and attempted to kill him unrelentingly and mercilessly, Arthur would always love the person Morgana was before she let the darkness overtake her. The fact that Fletch talked about Camelot with such proud reverence…it gave Arthur hope. He had died knowing that his efforts, Merlin’s, and the never failing efforts of his people had made Camelot safe again, at peace. 

Maybe things weren’t as dire as the prophecy about his resurrection had made it seem. Maybe. If there was one thing that Arthur could take away from his previous life, it was that prophecies and destiny, those types of things were to be taken seriously. Whatever danger lurked waiting for him, Arthur could certainly hope that it hadn’t tarnished his city yet. 

As the sun began to set, Fletch ordered the men to gather firewood. Not exempting himself, Arthur returned with a large armful. Not for the first time, Arthur wished Merlin were here to do it for him. Not that he minded the physical labor. He was still getting familiar with his body again. No, he wished Merlin were here so that he could question him about his return. It wasn’t out of the question that Merlin may know a great deal. His frustration was beginning to boil over. He dropped his wood on the growing pile and did his best to drop his line of thought along with it.  
When they all sat around the now blazing fire, Arthur had another thought. One that he thought he could act on. Gwen. He could ask these men about Guinevere. He would have be subtle about it. That thought made Arthur frown. Subtlety wasn’t something he had ever been particularly good at. He would have to try though. Not knowing about his wife, his one great love, was eating away at him. Despite the fear, he had to know if she was still alive. 

Ten minutes passed before Arthur could work up the courage to even attempt broaching the subject with the knights. Finally, when the stars were well lit in the sky, Arthur spoke up with a probing question. 

“So, Camelot…” stunning start really, “are there still many knights? There was a time when the knights of Camelot were by far and away considered the most noble, powerful, and skilled knights in the five kingdoms.” Wow. That hadn’t been about Gwen at all. He needed to work on asking better questions, because that was simply ridiculous. Arthur berated himself internally. 

Even though Arthur thought his question was exceptionally dimwitted, the knights around the fire looked at him happily, sitting up a bit straighter. Fletch smiled, but let one of his company answer him. 

“That time has not passed,” said one of the youngest, whose name Arthur learned was William. “The knights of Camelot still stand strong, ready to defend their home and those in need. Our numbers still grow. Especially since the ban against non noble born recruits was done away with long ago.” 

Arthur felt a pang in his chest. He had done that. The recognition flashed through him. The more he was around this company he remembered more of himself. Maybe it was the familiarity of the situation that was connecting it all for him. His memory returned more every day. It was so integrated that Arthur almost didn’t notice. He simply found himself thinking about things he didn’t realize he remembered until it was crossing his mind. 

“It helps that we have so much support from the castle. The royals are very much invested in the program. Not only for the protection that trained knights can provide. It’s vitally important to Her Majesty. Some of her greatest friends past a present are knights. She says the truest hearts live within the warrior, and not with the politician.”  
Her Majesty—She. These were the words that strobed at Arthur. Yelling at him “Here! Here we are!” There was hope. He tried not to look overly excited at the simple prospect that Camelot was indeed ruled by a queen. The queen could be anyone really, but Arthur somehow just felt it—the overwhelming lightness of being so close to the answer he desired most above all. His heart tripped over itself in its effort to beat rhythmically and keep from hammering out of his chest. 

This was his chance. He took it. 

“Your queen, is she as strong as the warriors she surrounds herself with?” Arthur’s voice sounded sure. Guinevere was strength itself. She stood by him fearlessly. He remembered that final battle. She refused to be left behind at the castle. Insisting that she come directly to the front with him. That final night that he had held her in his arms on the cusp of the looming battle. Yes, Gwen was strong. 

Every single head in the circle nodded emphatically, bowing in deep respect for this woman. 

Peter spoke up from Fletch’s right, “Oh yes. No one is as strong as our queen, Gwaine. She can handle a sword better than many men.”

The circle erupted in some laughter, “No one knows that better than Peter,” John quipped from across from Arthur. “She’s beaten him plenty of times in the practice ring.” 

There were echoing stories all around the ring of men. The merriment continued before Fletch, who had been uncharacteristically quiet finally spoke, his face lit by the slow flames of the fire. 

“The truth, Gwaine,” Fletcher spoke quietly, but with an iron sureness, “is that not only is she a fair ruler and an intelligent monarch—she is the only true warrior among any. She had endured more in a lifetime that anyone deserves, and not only does she bear it with grace, she continues on, and it has only made her more kind. Without her, Camelot would not have survived and flourished. I truly believe that there is no one stronger than our Queen Guinevere Pendragon.” 

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat and he was sure his heart stopped beating for a moment. Queen Guinevere. His Queen Guinevere. She lived! The elation he felt couldn’t be contained. The only thing he could do was keep from jumping up and running the rest of the way to Camelot. A dazzling smile broke across his face. 

“I am so proud to hear that Camelot still has such a wonderful ruler,” those were the words that made their way out of his mouth. It was far too busy smiling. Though, he had to know more. 

“Queen Guinevere Pendragon…wife of the late Arthur Pendragon?” The word were strange. Referring to himself in the third person with the past tense ringing in his ears. 

He could only wait. 

The circle nodded again. Arthur let out the breath he was holding. 

“Aye, one in the same,” Fletch reiterated. Arthur was about to ask another question when Fletch continued, “Queen Guinevere carries King Arthur with her always,” the circle nodded sadly. 

The question on the tip of Arthur’s tongue changed instantly, “Even though she remarried?” 

Surprised looks registered on everyone’s faces before they grew serious again.  “Oh, no,” Fletch had emphatically, “Queen Guinevere never remarried, and there is no way she ever will.”

Fletch said this with finality. There seemed to be no question at all. Despite how Arthur’s heart pined to know that the woman he would never stop loving had never given him up either, he needed complete answers. 

“Oh? Why do you say that?” 

All the eyes around the fire turned to Fletch once again. He appeared to be the expert on the subject. 

“Well,” he began, “I was five when King Arthur died. None of us knew him, of course. I had never seen him up close. Only from a very great distance. I’m the only one who was old enough to remember anything about him at all,” he grew silent for a moment, somber, as if frustrated a bit by this fact. 

Arthur squirmed a little. If only Fletch knew how close he was to him now. If he knew who he truly was. 

“The entire kingdom mourned for our king. Arthur was the finest ruler that Albion has ever seen, and I’d dare say will ever see again…but that’s a bit beside the point.  
While the kingdom mourned, no one mourned more than Guinevere. While she did her duty as queen and moved Camelot ahead into the age of peace that Arthur left in his wake, she was a little hollow inside. 

After about a year, they came. So many men. Suitors from far and wide. More than anyone had seen in a great many years. After all, Arthur had denied his arranged marriage to Princess Mithian and married Guinevere instead. With Arthur’s dead, and the seemed availability of his queen, countries from anywhere you can imagine came seeking her hand.” Fletch’s voice grew disgusted. 

“No one took into consideration how Guinevere must have been feeling. They promised her more land, wealth, power, anything with a union. They treated her as a game piece, one that didn’t feel anything for her late husband at all. Though, it is said that she proved rather quickly that she was not a pawn in anyone’s game,” Fletch laughed a little at this. It was clear to Arthur at this point that he had spent quite a bit of time with his wife. He knew her fairly well. 

“She rebuked hundreds of men, eventually shutting suitors out of Camelot all together. She sought council, alliances, and comfort from her friends, Queen Annis—an alliance that lasted from Arthur’s death to Annis’ own—and Mithian, who was now Queen Mithian. Together, they united most of Albion. Of course, there will always be the small pockets of resistance to peace, but the three queens made Albion flourish. 

When significant time passed, eventually Queen Guinevere reopened Camelot to visiting suitors, though it was more than abundantly clear that she wouldn’t be accepting anyone. There were some nice gentlemen, but no one could ever live up to Arthur for Guinevere. Camelot was all she had left of him, and she made it her life’s mission to make it the place that Arthur always dreamed it could be. What they had been working towards together for years up until his death. So no, Queen Guinevere never remarried. Arthur was, and still is, the only man for our queen. Her only love, a great love, that has persisted, beyond death and it is that love that has shaped Camelot to be what it is: a truly great nation.” 

The flames of the fire died out, leaving only embers. Their spark left as Fletcher’s words echoed in Arthur’s mind as he drifted to sleep.


	5. The Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur arrives in Camelot to something unexpected. He assumes a leadership role in order to save his city. Though it leaves him with more questions than he'd like. To add to it, Arthur receives the shock of both his lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Is anyone still out there? Sorry the updates are so sporadic. The muse and time so rarely meet up. This is a long chapter! So I hope you enjoy :)

His heart was pounding in his chest. Today was the day. He would finally set foot through the gates of Camelot and be reunited with his queen. Arthur felt strangely nervous. Or maybe it was just the anticipation. Regardless, he found himself checking his reflection in the stream as he drank that morning. Did he look alright? Better question, did he look like this old self? 

He didn’t know what to think, honestly. Showing up after being dead for—how many years did Fletch say had passed?—twenty years. Twenty. That was a long time. In the back of his mind, Arthur had to wonder if Guinevere would even recognize him at all. The thought passed through his mind, though he quickly scoffed at it. If everything Fletch said was true, and it had to be, Arthur had scarcely ever seen a man be so sure of anything, then it would be silly to think that Gwen wouldn’t remember what he looked like. 

He shook the thoughts out of his mind. He would only psych himself out. Live in the moment, Arthur told himself. That was difficult, though. He was beginning to remember so much more of his past. Arthur knew that he loved Guinevere more than anyone else, more than he was even capable of feeling for anyone else. His heart was utterly and completely hers. Even death had not changed that. But Arthur had to admit that he felt lucky. Not only because he had an incredible wife, or even that he had come back from beyond the veil. No—the best part of being reborn was getting to remember all the little things all over again. 

Last night Arthur dreamed of his and Gwen’s first official date. It had all come back to him. He remembered making Merlin pack a special basket to take down to the stream in the woods, away from the city. He recalled the way Gwen had looked in that dress, tip toeing her way across the rocks to be by his side. A flush of embarrassment passed through him at the remembrance of being caught inspecting his hair in a silver platter. 

That day, out in the woods with Gwen, had been perfect. Until his father interrupted him and tried to have Gwen put to death, but that was another story. Arthur chose to remain in that moment, when they’d kissed, after just having told each other their deepest thoughts. Arthur’s nagging inadequacy about taking the throne, and his somewhat playfully serious notion of forcing Merlin to come along as he went off to become a farmer. He smiled at the memory. Gwen had looked at him with such confidence; like she thought that he could do anything. It was different than how other people looked at him. True, people thought him to be some kind of invincible. Arthur, the crown prince of Camelot, son of the fearsome Uther Pendragon…but Gwen saw Arthur differently. She looked at him and saw the real Arthur. Not the pompous prince he used to be, even if that wasn’t who he wanted to be. 

Gwen had always seen Arthur for the man she knew he could be. And because of her love and support, and he’d admit, Merlin’s unfailing faith in him, Arthur had become the man that she saw beneath it all. 

His heart swelled with pride. His Guinevere was the most faithful, strong, intelligent, and kind woman he had ever known. She was his, and he was hers. Going back was so long overdue. Despite knowing that his death was a small price to pay to bring peace to Albion, he had felt like he was sacrificing much more than himself. Getting to come back to Gwen felt a bit like the universe giving some of that back. 

He would see her soon.

The day was coming to it’s midpoint, and as Fletch had promised, they were nearing Camelot. The trees were beginning to thin, and Arthur felt the familiarity of this place. They were so very close. In a hundred yards, the woods would end and they would be on a hill, overlooking the valley were Camelot stood. Arthur realized suddenly that he knew this with certainty. His memory was growing stronger. 

Ten more feet…and the sky opened up. The crest of the hill felt just as he had now remembered. It was a moment that he had relived many times. He would often stop here on his return, to admire his noble kingdom, and to see his home. Camelot was more than the stone walls, village, and castle. It was a feeling. That indescribable warmth inside when you found home. It was the breath of absolute peace. 

Arthur’s eyes blinked against the harshness of the noonday sun. When his blue irises adjusted, he saw it. Red flags blew in the breeze on the castle’s parapets. The flags that still bore the Pendragon crest. He was home at last. 

All the knights stood next to Arthur, admiring their home. Silence reigned. It was more than enough just to look at it. Arthur let his eyes drink in everything. The walls, the sun catching on the many windows of the castle, the people—Wait. Arthur felt a flash of panic go through him. Where were all the people? It was unusually dormant. At this time of day there should be many people coming in and out of the gates, going about their business. Instead, there was no one milling near Camelot’s entrance. This caught Arthur’s attention almost immediately, and he felt his stomach sink at the realization that something was definitely, and absolutely, wrong. With chagrin, he spoke up. 

“Fletch,” the lead knight turned his eyes on him, “something’s wrong here. It’s too quiet. There are no people. On a regular day we should be seeing a lot of activity. Instead, there’s no one.” 

At Arthur’s words, Fletch quickly turned to survey the area, his eyes moving frantically. Arthur could tell the second Fletch saw he was right. His jaw set, and he pulled his sword from the scabbard. 

“He’s right,” Fletch ground out. Arthur could hear the mixture of worry and anger in his voice. “We have to go down and find out what’s happening, but we must be discreet. People could be in danger. I don’t know what we face, but we must do our duty and protect our home.” 

The rest of the knights quickly took Fletch’s lead. Arthur followed without hesitation. This was the sort of thing he was brought back to do. If Camelot was in trouble, Arthur wouldn’t think for a second before leaping to its rescue. 

Fletch looked down the hill, scanning for enemies. Arthur already knew that there were none. Whatever was happening was concentrated within the city itself. It was the best plan if an enemy planned to overtake it. It cut off escape routes and kept the opposing force within a relatively small quadrant. Arthur knew that whatever was going on, it was a small force that was the threat. A large army would never have made it this close to the city. They would have been met by Camelot’s forces long before the city gates. 

No, the more Arthur thought about it, the more he felt certain. This was a small force that easily slipped into the city in small groups, randomly walking in at different intervals before executing their strike. It was the only way that they could have gone undetected. 

Arthur felt rage seep through him. But he had to keep a clear head if he had hope of preventing whatever plans this insurgence had. Fletch’s voice came once again. 

“For the love of Camelot!” the words echoed in Arthur’s ears. 

Suddenly he was back to the last time he himself had uttered those very words. That night, as he and his loyal knights had cut off Morgana’s attempt to outflank them at Camlann. The night that the secret pass had to be protected. He once again heard the words echoed back to him by his men as they went out to pledge their lives if necessary in their kingdom’s defense. The memory was so vivid, it nearly knocked the breath straight from Arthur’s lungs. He was lost in that moment, feeling what he felt then, not long before he himself was off to lay down his life. 

“Gwaine?” Peter’s voice called him back. 

Arthur snapped back to the present, and saw that the knights were headed down the hill. Peter had looked back at him questioningly. 

“Yes. Sorry. I’m coming,” Arthur said quickly, and rushed to Peter’s side. 

Though he stole a curious glance, Peter let the incident slide away as they headed down the path.  
***  
After scouting the area carefully, the small band that Arthur had become a part of was laying down their plan. They found that the main gate’s portcullis had been sabotaged, the ropes cut jaggedly. There was no way to raise it without drawing the attention of the two enemy guards that they had seen patrolling the other side.  
From the heights of the tallest trees on the surrounding hills, the men had climbed to steal a glance over the high walls. From that distance they were able to see that there was still fighting going on. Though it was slowly inching ever nearer to the main steps of the castle. In fact, the enemy was only paces from entering the main courtyard. They could see the remaining knights battling fiercely, their red capes flying this way and that as they swung their swords. 

It was clear to Arthur nearly immediately that this was not Camelot’s full force. Even with at least a few companies of men out on patrols in various parts of the kingdom, there had to be more men in the city. His eyes scanned, frantically looking for the men that should be defending the castle with the rest. After a couple of minutes Arthur found them. The realization hit him fast, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. The enemy was using the people against their protectors. In various areas in the city the citizens of Camelot were being used as human shields. They were forced into the streets, grouped together in front of enemy soldiers to block the path for the knights. 

Try as they might to get passed, the citizens were too tightly packed and controlled by enemy archers as well as foot soldiers to be pushed through. If they used any more force, the knights would end up killing their own people. As much as the tactic disgusted Arthur, he couldn’t deny it’s effectiveness. The force attacking Camelot was small, and by dividing the knights with the use of the citizens, they evened the odds for the rest of their more elite force to try to take the castle itself. 

The battle did not look like it was going well. While Camelot’s forces were holding the city, they would eventually tire and be overrun because of the spread of their forces. There was no back up, no relief. 

Arthur knew it was his job to be that relief. Luckily for him, the invaders did not account for any outside help for Camelot. Even the very small force he had with him could tip the scales. He knew what they had to do. He began to explain, and knights surrounding him nodded along, knowing that the plan Arthur presented was their best chance. 

“We must free the forces that are blocked with the citizen hostages,” Arthur said adamantly. “Without the extra manpower, we have no chance of pushing the insurgents away from the castle.” 

Fletch nodded. “Once that is done, we can regather and help those at the castle steps. How do we do it?” 

Arthur looked around the circle. “We do it together. If done properly, we can free the way without too much of a distraction and without alerting the other groups of enemies. Once even one of the sectors is free, it will be relatively easy to free the others and then retake the ground and surround the last enemies in the courtyard.

“Our goal will be first to take out the archers. They are the ones that are preventing the men from getting close enough to the citizens to help them escape. Once they are taken out, the citizens will help in the push to overtake the others. Then we move to the rest of the blocked sector of the city. With the citizens’ help it will be simple.”

A younger knight cleared his throat. “Gwaine, how can you be sure the people won’t panic and run rather than help?” 

Arthur felt an involuntary smile spread across his face. “The people of Camelot are brave, and they would not leave their city at the mercy of such men. They will fight with us if told what to do.” 

Arthur said this with absolute confidence. He had seen his people face insurmountable odds and come out victorious. They had sacrificed, fought, and come back from things much worse than this. During the brief reign of his sister, Morgana, the people had never given in. They refused to be ruled by anyone but their rightful king. Their bravery and stalwart belief that Arthur would return, and their help in repelling the reviled forces upon his move to reclaim Camelot was something that Arthur never wanted to forget. 

Though some of the inexperienced knights looked nervous, they all agreed to the plan. Feeling eyes on him, Arthur looked to find Fletch giving him a wondering stare, like he was giving great thought to him all the sudden. A flash of panic went through him as he watched Fletch. The stare wasn’t quite knowing, but it wasn’t far off. It scared him, sure, but Arthur knew that saving his people came first. Even if Fletch guessed at his true identity, now was not the time. 

The plan was set. 

“One last question Gwaine,” Fletch broke his stare to ask, “How do we get into the city?” 

Arthur smiled a secretive smile. “I know a way.”  
***  
They slipped through the grate hidden in the underbrush. It seemed as though the secret entrance into Camelot had long been forgotten. Arthur led the way through the underground tunnels, his body knowing the way more than his mind. His instincts were leading him, and he let them, because they appeared to be headed in the right direction. 

The men around him looked at the torch lit tunnels with awe. It was clear that none of them knew that these tunnels even existed. After quite a few minutes of their eyes drinking in their surroundings, one finally spoke. 

William whispered, “How did you know about this place? How do you know where we are going?”

Arthur looked back, swinging his torch to see the curious faces that looked back. He figured it wouldn’t hurt. “I grew up in Camelot,” he admitted before walking on. 

He heard a few shocked intakes of breath. It was clear that they knew very little about their companion. There were no more questions, however. Arthur had to assume that they either respected his privacy, were too awestruck to ask anything else, or simply had decided that now wasn’t the time to ask him about it. 

Arthur was leading them down the final branch from where they would surface and enact their plan. “Alright, the door is just up ahead. We will come above ground on a side street. A quiet one, from what we could see from above, that’s a couple of blocks from the first captive sector. We have to be careful upon exit, there could be patrols.” Arthur heard the words coming from his mouth and noted how confident they sounded. It was so easy to fall back into the leadership role. He had been born for it. His time in Avalon couldn’t have taken it. It came back to him as easily as the air coming in and out of his lungs. 

The others had fallen into his leadership easily. Even Fletch, who was supposed to be the leader of this company, had immediately fallen back to let Arthur take point, sensing that he knew better than him at this moment. 

Arthur took a deep breath as they reached the door. This was a defining moment. Once they stepped out, there was no going back. He didn’t hesitate, immediately reaching his hand to grasp the dusty handle. With a slight shove, the door opened a crack. He looked out into the sliver of light, checking for enemy patrols. There were none, and Arthur swung the door open enough to slip out, then motioned the others to follow. 

As soon as they were all in the street, they split up, knowing their own missions. Arthur went to the building adjacent to the one with the most problematic archer. Once on the roof, he quietly scaled to the side closest to the roof he wanted and leaped. Landing with a slight thud, Arthur rose and drew Excalibur. He moved quickly, with light footsteps he stalked up behind the enemy. 

Right as the other man had the slightest inkling of his presence, Arthur pounced, using the pommel of his sword to hit the man soundly on the head, rendering him unconscious. Sure, it would have been easy to kill him, but freeing the city wasn’t Arthur’s only goal. He needed to find out who these men were, who they worked for, and how they were able to get into Camelot so easily. 

His job for now was done. He waited the allotted amount of time before giving his signal. Subtle enough to be mistaken for faulty eyesight. He flashed Excalibur with the  
rays of the afternoon sun, giving three brilliant strokes of light to show that his job had been done. Answering flashes from the surrounding rooftops told him that the archers were taken care of. He waited another two minutes, watching. 

Not long after, Arthur saw what he needed. One of Camelot’s leading knights poked his head around the corner, suddenly aware that they were no longer being shot at. Right on cue, the knights on the rooftops quickly swung their capes over the side in a quick motion before disappearing back into their cover. Luckily, Arthur saw hope and recognition dawn on the leader’s face, and he hurriedly brought his force from behind the cover of the walls. 

Perfect timing, Arthur thought, a smile spreading across his face as he saw the magnificence of Camelot’s knights fall into formation, exactly the way he knew they would. His small band began hopping roofs to get on the other side of the citizens, where the small gathering of the enemy forces were cowardly hiding. 

Doing exactly what he needed them to, Camelot’s returning force immediately began making a ruckus, causing the opposing force to move back to the edge of their crowd of hostages. 

“Come out and fight us like men!” Arthur heard the leader of the platoon call out ferociously. “You hide behind our people like the cowards you are. Face us! Show you don’t lack all sense of honor! Or else we will have to come and find you ourselves,” the threat echoed off the walls. 

The slime on the other side merely snickered. 

“We have your people between us. You can’t reach us.” 

It was that moment that Arthur’s band dropped down from their hiding places, pinning the men between them and the citizens. 

“Well, you see,” Arthur began as he held Excalibur firmly against the leader’s back, “they don’t need to.” 

The enemy commander stiffened immediately and dropped his weapons. 

“Ah,” Arthur spat, “a coward shows his true colors.” 

The rest of the men quickly surrendered, and Arthur and his men bound them and left them seated. The people quickly turned to their saviors, though parted the way for the knights on their other side get through. The leader that Arthur had seen and heard creating their distraction stepped forward and immediately recognized Fletch.

“Fletch! About time you arrived, man. Thank you for unpinning us. The others need our help.” 

This was when he noticed Arthur.

“Fletch, who is this? We owe him many lives,” the commander said, remembering Arthur’s face from the roof when he had seen the signal. 

Fletch clapped Arthur on the back. “This, Leopold, is Gwaine. This is not the first time he has saved our lives, and this is his plan. Without him, we would not have been able to get into the city.”

Leopold nodded, and offered Arthur his arm to shake. 

“We’re indebted to you Gwaine,” he said, grasping Arthur’s forearm. 

“Don’t thank me yet, we still have the rest of the city to save. How many men do you have under your command?” 

Leopold answered immediately, “Twenty five in good fighting shape. Lead the way, we’ll follow.” 

Within five minutes, the men and the citizens had been regrouped and headed out. Within the next half an hour, Arthur and his force had successfully freed all sectors of the city. With a formidable force made of trained soldiers and loyal citizens at his back, Arthur marched to palace courtyard. As the march continued through the streets, Arthur motioned men off various side streets, meaning to entirely surround the courtyard, leaving the enemy with no escape route. 

As they neared their destination, the sound of the fighting grew loud, ringing out through the streets, announcing the struggle that was still under way. Arthur felt a small amount of relief. The sound meant that there had been no defeat or surrender. He knew that Camelot would never fall to surrender. Not while his men defended it. 

The street opened up, and Arthur found himself at the edge of the open space, now witness to the battle. Wounded and dead lay in the courtyard, but the battle still raged. Despite the fact that Camelot had only ten knights left, they were still holding the line against at least thirty enemy soldiers. Arthur felt pride surge through him. They wouldn’t have to last much longer, he had brought the rest of Camelot’s force. None of the combatants had noticed them yet. They were too engrossed in fighting for their lives. 

Arthur waited. The timing of the strike was important. If they moved too soon, there was a chance that the intruders would escape through the back streets. That was something Arthur simply couldn’t allow. Thirty more seconds, he told himself. 

Just as he heard the rest of his forces arriving at the square, a voice rang above the battle. 

“Knights of Camelot!” Arthur couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but it sounded like a young adult male, strong, unwavering, but still with a touch of youth present in his chords. “We do not surrender, we do not rest! We hold the line, for the love of Camelot!” 

His army had arrived, but Arthur was too enthralled with listening to the voice to immediately call for the attack. Instead, he answered the call of the faceless young man, loudly, without hesitation, and with pride and love in his voice. 

“For the love of Camelot!” his voice called. 

Immediately the entire force that stood with him took up the same cry, echoing as the shuddering war cry ripped through the air. The collective shouts made everyone in the square take notice, and for a moment, the fighting ceased entirely as the men fighting found themselves surrounded for the first time. 

The knights’ faces were mixtures of relief, hope, and absolute determination. They knew now that they couldn’t lose. The enemies looked stunned to see the men that they had quarantined through the sectors of the city standing in front of them, ready to fight. To their credit, Arthur begrudgingly acknowledged, they didn’t immediately surrender. Instead, a cry from their own leader went up. 

“No surrender! You all know who we serve!” This seemed to shake them from their stupor, a flash of fear going through their eyes before they resumed fighting. 

Arthur saw their choice and made one of his own. 

“Attack!” he called as he plowed into the fray, spinning to avoid an enemy blade before meeting it with his own. “At least five remain alive!” Arthur called over the noise.  
Despite his initial estimation that this would be over in mere seconds, the battle still went on. This force was elite, and the less experienced fighters were having a difficult time besting them. Even though the courtyard was fairly open and large, it didn’t accommodate hundreds of fighters. Battles required room to maneuver. Most of Arthur’s army stayed at the edges, making sure that those that did try to flee didn’t escape. When it became clear that the caliber of men they were fighting required advanced skill, the better fighters rose to the front to engage. The less experienced dealt with fringe fighters in pairs or even threes. 

Arthur remained mixed in deep at the heart of the battle. He was trying to wound instead of kill, but the men weren’t making easy. He had to slay more than he had wanted. The more prisoners they had, the more likely at least one of them would talk. 

He occasionally caught sight of more red caped knights as the numbers of the enemy began to thin. One kept catching his eye in particular. The knight was young, he could see that, but his strength and skill was extremely impressive for someone his age. His footwork was light and quick, and his sword strokes strong and sure. He showed skill, and definite promise. Arthur caught glimpses of him through the dueling men. He had broad shoulders, dirty blonde hair, and caramel tanned skin. Arthur couldn’t see his face, he was too busy dispatching enemies. 

Soon, the enemy force was either dead, wounded, or completely surrounded. Camelot’s force had swords pointed in, completely corralling the enemies until those left standing were too close to each other to effectively fight. Arthur stood shoulder to shoulder with the knights who had just reclaimed their city. 

Just as he was about to speak, another voice rang out. 

“Surrender. You’re completely surrounded and entirely defeated.” 

It was the voice who had called for the final push just as Arthur had arrived in the square. The voice Arthur had answered with his own cry. He decided that the man he was pointing Excalibur at wasn’t going anywhere and looked for the owner of the voice. To his surprise, it was the same young man he had noticed in the battle. He could now see his face. 

The young man that now addressed the invaders was indeed young, but he spoke with authority, sureness. He clearly was a leader. Arthur wondered at his age. The young man clearly had skill, but even so, very young to be the leader here. His tanned face showcased his very blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles covered his nose. Arthur noted the unusualness of his skin tone paired with his eyes and hair, but this young man was handsome, confident, and in control. He looked familiar. Arthur couldn’t place it. He knew that this boy was far too young for him to have known previously, but there was something about him…

Arthur was distracted when the enemy leader laughed bitterly. 

“You, boy. You know nothing. This is merely the beginning.” 

The man who had spoken was middle aged, with graying hair, his rotting teeth being displayed disgustingly as he bared them in defiance. 

“We have not lost, and we certainly do not surrender. Our patron will conquer this land, and all of Albion. Squash it in the palm of his hand, the same way he will torture you when he wills it,” the man continued, mimicking his words with a blood stained hand. 

The young man looked unimpressed. “Tell me, who is this patron of yours, that I am meant to fear so?” 

“A darkness you cannot possibly imagine.” A hush went through the crowd. “You have no right to know his name. I won’t speak it. You’ll get nothing else from me, or any of us. Just know that he sends his regards.” 

Arthur saw it the same moment Fletch did. A dagger blade flashing up in the enemy’s hand, aimed for Camelot’s leader’s abdomen. 

“Nicholas!” Fletch yelled, his hand shooting out to intercept the dagger. 

Camelot’s young spokesman reacted to the shout and dodged the dagger right as Fletch caught the enemy’s wrist, breaking it with a somewhat sickening crunch.  
A last gurgling laugh fell from the adversary’s lips. 

“The time is coming, but today, we leave with our message delivered,” and broken wrist forgotten, the assailant plunged his own dagger into his flesh. 

As if on cue, every other enemy combatant fell on their blades. 

“No!” Arthur shouted, dropping to his knees to try to stop the bleeding that was killing the man in front of him as hysteria broke out. Despite the efforts of the men surrounding their attackers, the prisoners bled out quickly, none were saved. 

A collective sigh went through the men as they dispersed to tend to their own wounded and recollect themselves after their ordeal. Arthur stayed near the bodies of the invaders. What would prompt them to do such a thing? Whoever, whatever, they served must prove a more fearsome fate than Camelot’s dungeons. 

He stirred slightly to Fletch’s voice from about ten feet away. 

“Nicholas, are you sure you’re alright? He didn’t nick you or anything?” Fletch asked the young man standing next to him. 

Nicholas shrugged off the concern. “Fletch, you worry too much. As usual. You’re starting to remind me of my mother,” he teased. 

“She has every right to be concerned,” Fletch shot back, good naturedly socking Nicholas in the arm. “What are you even doing out here? You’re not supposed to be on the front lines, and yet that’s where I find you.” 

Nicholas smiles, “To be fair Fletch, they were literally on the doorstep.”

“Yes, but you just happened to be ready anyway. I thought you were out on patrol today. I should have found you in one of the blocked sectors.” 

“Well…I may or may not have escaped from there with a few children,” Nicholas admitted. “I left them somewhere safe and immediately came back here and joined in the battle.” 

“With no plan or any back up at all?” 

Nicholas shrugged somewhat guiltily. “We do what we have to do.” 

Arthur listened to this exchange with interest, though he kept his eyes on his task, which was trying to find any identifying mark, crest, or anything on the attacker’s clothes or skin. Why was Fletch giving Nicholas such a hard time? 

“Yes, we do. But Nicholas, you are the prince of Camelot. I expect you to think before you charge into battle. You just remember that I have to answer to your mother, and I doubt Queen Guinevere would be happy if I brought her only son back with a dagger stuck in his gut!” Fletch chastised. 

Arthur froze. Prince. Camelot. Queen Guinevere. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart hammered in his chest. There was a reason the boy looked so familiar. That was his hair—his eyes. Guinevere’s freckles. Arthur melted away into the crowd, he had to process. 

Nicholas was his son.


	6. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur deals with the aftermath of his discovery regarding Nicholas. He thinks of the past, but looks to the future, and decides to take an active part in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Really sorry that this took so long. I could give you an excuse, but there really isn't one. I'm just glad that this chapter finally came to fruition! I hope you enjoy!

Arthur had been avoiding everyone. It was inevitable that people came up to talk to him. Despite his efforts to remain out of the spotlight, there were knights and citizens that remembered him from the battle. He accepted praise very quietly, making special effort to downplay the events. It wasn’t that he didn’t have pride in helping to restore order to Camelot. He just really didn’t want to draw attention from the castle itself. 

It was the thought of coming face to face with Guinevere knowing what he did now. As much as he longed for her, there were things that needed to be said that Arthur wasn’t ready to utter aloud. He wanted to, but he hadn’t really worked through it yet. Having a child…one you didn’t know about no less. It changed things for Arthur. He was absolutely thrilled, of course. Having a child with Guinevere was everything he had ever wanted.

In the time that they had been married, they hadn’t had that blessing. It had been years, with no pregnancy. Arthur had come close to accepting that perhaps they simply couldn’t conceive. There was no blame to be placed, it simply just wasn’t meant to be. Or so he had thought. Nicholas…his son. Arthur thought of him constantly. He was such a perfect blend of the two of them. Every time he thought the boy looked exactly like him or Gwen, he found the other in the features he recalled in his memory. 

He longed to know him, see if he had his laugh, the same sparkle of his mother’s eyes. There was so much Arthur didn’t know about his son. He knew nothing other than he was good with a sword. A gallant and capable knight. Everything Arthur would have hoped. But he didn’t know the boy’s hopes, his dreams, the things he longed for at night, or what drove him. He didn’t know Nicholas. And that was what bothered Arthur most of all. 

He had missed it. He missed his boy’s birth. His first steps. His first word. First girl that caught his eye. Learning to ride. Learning to fight. A million and one firsts flashed through Arthur’s mind until he felt like he was drowning in them. Lost in a sea of things that he could never rewind. How could he face them knowing that he hadn’t been there for them? Knowing he had left Gwen alone to raise their child? Nicholas had grown up without a father. Arthur knew what it was like—missing a parent. He had never known his mother, and he had difficulties with his father until the night he died in his arms. The grief—grief Arthur carried still—wasn’t easy. Knowing that he could be the cause of such pain for his child left him in anguish. 

How could something like that be forgiven? Arthur knew that this line of thinking was almost silly. He hadn’t chosen to die. He had fought for the safety of his people; given them a better life with his sacrifice. And although he would do it again, Arthur knew this time just how much he would be giving up. 

The sudden thud of a mug of ale coming down on the table broke Arthur from his guilt stricken thoughts. He looked up in surprise to see a knight settling across from him, looking friendly and open. After a second, Arthur recognized him as Leopold, the captain whose men they had unpinned first in the battle. A smile broke across Arthur’s face, a welcome change from the last three days of mulling discontentedly in his worries. 

“Sir Gwaine!” Leopold said merrily over the noise of the tavern. “It’s good to see you, man. I’ve been trying to find you, to offer my thanks again for your aid in the battle.” 

“Captain Leopold,” Arthur grinned, “It is you I have to thank. After all, without your men we never would have reclaimed the square.” 

Leopold shook his head, but his small smile remained. He extended his arm, and Arthur grasped his forearm, returning the sentiment behind it. 

“Camelot hasn’t seen leadership like was shown in that square for a great many years. With you and Prince Nicholas,” he said matter-of-factly, “it felt right. Like you two belonged exactly there. It was different. Like the change affected the city somehow,” he commented, his demeanor easy and light. 

Arthur however, froze at the words. It felt right. He couldn’t deny that he had felt the same. In the heat of the clashing swords, both his words and Nicholas’s had mingled, creating the energy that Camelot’s force needed. Arthur remembered admiring the young man’s ease in his position; born to lead. His son had been remarkable. Not only in his fighting technique, but his passion for the city, his adamant call for regroup, and his ability to pull the best from his men. He knew that he had made a decision, right then and there. 

“Fletch told me you might have come here,” Leopold said. 

“What?” Arthur replied distractedly. 

Belatedly he realized he hadn’t truly been paying attention to what the captain had been saying. 

“Fletch,” Leopold repeated, eyeing Arthur curiously. “When I asked after you, he said that you were familiar with Camelot and that you may have sought a place to sleep.”

Ah. Fletch. Arthur had to respect the young knight for keeping the story of Arthur’s lead into battle and subsequent fading into the background simple and nondescript.  
When Arthur had disappeared out of the square that day, Fletch had found him wandering down the streets deep in thought a few hours later. 

“Sir Gwaine!” Arthur had heard his falsely given name echo after him. He turned, a little wary, part of him afraid that Fletcher had brought Nicholas with him. He wasn’t ready for that in that moment. Not even close. 

All the knights had easily attached the title to his name. They all knew he had to be a knight with the display of his swordplay and strategy. 

Arthur watched as Fletch approached, luckily alone as he hurried down the street to meet him. 

“You left so suddenly,” Fletch said as he reached him, “I was worried something may be wrong.” 

Arthur’s hand found the back of his neck, rubbing it absently. 

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Arthur said. 

That was technically true. It wasn’t wrong, simply completely unexpected. Obviously he couldn’t tell Fletch that. He couldn’t utter a single sentence that might lead him to believe that Arthur was someone else, someone more important than he was letting on. Besides, Arthur remained the same age he had been at his death. Late twenties was a bit young to have a child Nicholas’s age. Add that to ever growing list of craziness that was floating through Arthur’s head. 

“It’s just…being back in Camelot, it’s suddenly overwhelming,” Truthful words. 

Fletch nodded in understanding. “You are being heralded as a hero in the battle, and rightly so.”

Arthur dragged his eyes from the street back up to Fletch. 

“We truly could not have won back the city without you, Gwaine,” Fletch continued, his voice soft, but the truth behind it solid. “Without your strategy and rallying of the men, it is likely that Camelot would have fallen into enemy hands, even with Prince Nicholas very bravely defending the square with the very small company of men he had left. Camelot is indebted to you, and people will be seeking you.” 

Fletch said this bluntly, and for that Arthur was grateful. There was nothing worse than people who told you what you wanted to hear and then stabbed you in the back. Arthur knew this better than most. His own uncle had betrayed him at one point, attempting and briefly succeeding to steal his home out from under him to deliver to his sister. Arthur appreciated the honesty. It reminded him of the openly frank way Merlin would say things to him sometimes. Granted, those times usually ended with Arthur throwing something at Merlin…but still, he appreciated those times. He would like to throw something at Merlin now, as if to say, “Why haven’t you found me yet?” Where was that clot pole anyway? Add that to the list. 

Arthur sighed before answering, “I’ve been away from Camelot for such a long time. I don’t want to be heralded in the streets. I simply want to know them once again,” Arthur confessed. 

It was true. He wanted to see his city again. It didn’t hurt that the time reacquainting himself would help him sort out his thoughts about Guinevere and Nicholas and what he should do next. Again, he wished for Merlin to be with him. At least then he would have someone to talk it over with. 

Fletch nodded in deference. “As you wish. I will try to keep people from hunting you down to regal them with stories of your victory. Just keep in mind, Gwaine, that your courage will not be overlooked for long. Though it can likely be held off a few days. Nicholas is setting extra patrols and taking great care in shoring up the defenses of the city. Everyone will be busy. In the mean time,” Fletch pressed a small pouch of gold into Arthur’s hand, “find yourself a bed and a hot meal. Come find me when you’re ready.” 

Arthur stared at the pouch in his hand. “Fletch, I couldn’t—”

Fletch held up a silencing hand, “Consider it the price for me giving you some peace for a few days,” he smiled. 

Arthur returned the smile and nodded gratefully, extending his arm. Fletch gripped it and shook. 

“Thank you.” 

Arthur left with the simple words hanging in the air between them. 

Now he was here, in the tavern that he had eventually ended up in, listening to Leopold telling him about the city’s gratefulness to the stranger who had led the reinforcements. A tavern. The irony was not lost on Arthur. Not at all. He knew now that all the time Merlin had gone missing had not been spent in the tavern as Gaius had so often told him. And yet, the place had felt right to Arthur, as he’d wandered Camelot’s streets. It made him smile a bit and groan in frustration at the same time. Merlin’s consistent disappearances in which he’d been doing sorcery related quests that Arthur knew nothing about. He still fully intended on asking about all of those times. 

“I know that the other knights are eager to meet you,” Leopold said. “We could use your help with some training.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

Leopold huffed a little laugh. 

“I saw you fight. You can’t be all that surprised that we’d want to have you train some of the younger knights.” 

Arthur hesitated. On one hand, training knights was something he was familiar with, something he loved to do. It had been one of his greatest points of pride; to see the young men he had mentored come into their own and take their place as leaders in Camelot. But there was simply no way he could be that public about his presence here. 

The agony of the decision must have shown on his face, because Leopold immediately moved to soothe Arthur’s fears. 

“I know you’d like to stay out of the spotlight. Fletch told me as much.” 

Arthur nodded at him, a bit relieved that he wasn’t pushing to parade him through the streets. There was a time in his life when Arthur would have liked nothing more than that. To be honored and celebrated, have parties all in his name, but that boy was long gone. The man that was left behind in his place valued teamwork and brotherhood much more than any spectacle for his pride. Especially now, when he still didn’t know what to say to Gwen or his son. 

“But consider this: I’ll make it a small group. Nothing fancy, just some drills. We won’t make a big fuss over it. I think they’d really benefit, and it might make you feel a bit more at home…if you’re staying in Camelot that is.” 

Leopold’s words struck a chord with Arthur. Was he here to stay? Yes. The resounding and unmistakable truth sunk deep into him. He was staying. He had a mission to complete.

“I will be staying in Camelot. This is my home.” 

The words were out, as true as they were irreversible. 

Leopold smiled, “You’ll consider the offer then?” 

Before he could second guess himself Arthur replied, “I’d be happy to run a training session with you. So long as we keep it small as you’ve said.”  
Leopold offered his forearm again and Arthur took it, their deal struck. With a nod, the captain left, promising to send word of the time and place that they should meet. Arthur knew that this was a risk. But at the end of the day, he cared more to help protect his people than he did sitting around in an attempt to figure out what he was going to do about his situation. 

***

The afternoon of the training session had arrived quickly. It only took Leopold mere hours to dispatch a messenger to tell Arthur of the plans for the next day. Less than twenty four hours. The captain had not been joking when he said he wanted Arthur to drill his troops. A part of Arthur worried he wouldn’t be able to really remember drills with his memory being as spotty as it was. Eventually, however, he had dismissed the fears. He had fought well before. In fact, it was something that he was absolutely sure about, unlike many other things currently happening in his life. Whether he remembered specific drills or not, he would be fine. He’d wing it, and his body would remember the rest. 

There had been plenty of times in Arthur’s life when he had well laid plans. Then again, there were more than few times when he had somewhat recklessly charged in without one at all. Merlin was usually right beside him, which always made him feel a little better. After all, when things got really tough and he needed a distraction, he usually just shoved Merlin out in front of the thing that needed distracting. That put a smile on his face then. He remembered the time that Merlin had done exactly the same thing to him. 

He was walking now, toward the small field that Leopold had instructed him to meet. The streets were abuzz. The activity made Arthur feel even more at home. The world still went on, and he got to be a part of it again. No one paid him any attention. He was just a regular passerby here. He didn’t mind. Not at all. Learning that at the end of the day he was a person first and a royal second was a lesson he had learned long ago. The first time he had ever kissed Gwen. 

Thinking back to that day, in her house, with the handkerchief given to him as a token of luck…the sunlight streaming through the window, he had kissed her. He hadn’t really known it then, how important she would become to him. How eventually she would be his wisdom, his strength, his heart, his everything. One thing was for certain: even then he had known she was something special. 

The smile was still tugging at his lips when he crossed the edge of the clearing. He was early, and no one had arrived yet. He settled in to wait, pulling Excalibur from its sheath. The blade caught in the afternoon sunlight, gleaming ferociously. Excalibur was straight and ever sharp and formidable. It was exactly as he had left it when he had gone to Avalon. The blade, forged in a dragon’s breath, never needed sharpening. It remained perfectly balanced and never faded. The sword he had pulled from the stone that had regained his people’s freedom many times over. 

At first he had worried about bringing it. What if someone recognized it, and thus him? Though eventually he had dismissed this fear. He had fought with it in the battle and no on had noticed. Not to mention that he wouldn’t use it very much today. Mostly he would only demonstrate, then instruct the others. That was the plan anyway. In the back of his mind, though, Arthur had to admit, he was always a more hands-on instructor. 

Arthur turned his mind to drills then. He couldn’t remember anything outright, so in the hope that his body would, he began to move a bit. Before long, Arthur realized that indeed, his feet had begun moving in the same pattern over and over again. After a few more repetitions he recognized it as the same drill that his father used to run him through as a boy. 

A smile rushed across Arthur’s face as he remembered the time he had beaten his father in a duel in front of their whole city. He couldn’t let his father win, not even if he was the king. That had never been Arthur’s style, especially after his father had goaded him so. After conquering Uther, Arthur had told him the truth. His footwork was always his weak spot. The irony occurred to him now, standing in that field. He had beaten his father that day with the very thing that Uther had always forced him to practice. 

It wasn’t long until Arthur sensed someone watching him. His eyes flickered away from his feet to find Fletch standing in front of him. He immediately ceased the pattern and strode forward to greet him. 

“Fletch. You’ve found me I see,” Arthur said easily, extending his arm. 

Fletch shook it.  

 “Well, Leopold told me you were going to be giving a lesson. I couldn’t very well miss that.” 

The smile on Fletcher’s face was genuine, and revealed the real semblance of camaraderie. He and Arthur were friends now, brothers in arms. While he didn’t know that much about Arthur, that connection that they had established was growing in strength. 

“Don’t expect anything grand,” Arthur cautioned, “it’s about hard work more than anything else.” 

He really believed that. Being a good fighter was about talent, absolutely, but the knight who steadily worked on his skills was always going to outpace the one that relied on talent alone. It was a large part of the reason that Arthur insisted that he train frequently with all his knights, no matter their level of experience.  
Fletch nodded before glancing behind him. 

“Here comes your class now.” 

Arthur followed Fletch’s gaze, landing on a small squadron of knights in their signature red capes, in line behind Leopold, who had a broad smile on his face. He had kept it small as they had discussed, bringing only six men. Of course, they were all on the younger side, likely just barely knighted.  
When the group halted in front of him, Leopold wasted no time in introducing Arthur to them. 

“Gentlemen, I believe you remember Sir Gwaine,” he gestured to Arthur. “Sir Gwaine, meet your students for today.” He went on to list all their names. 

Arthur smiled at them before getting to heart of the matter. 

“Today we’ll start out with very basic drills. Groundwork is what makes fine knights. Skip over it, and you may well find yourself on the receiving end of the swords you’re trying to defend against,” he paused, letting his words sink in. “I assure you, war is very real thing. There will be times when you are afraid for your life. Your family’s lives, and the lives of everyone that you have sworn to protect.” He looked into each of their eyes as he walked down the line. “Having the necessary training will help you stand your ground, protect yourselves and your charges, and win the fight.”

He was very serious. He had seen things in his life that were truly horrific. War makes you see things differently. Arthur knew that he was summoned because something was coming. He intended for his kingdom to be as prepared as possible. That preparation began with her defenders. 

“Let’s get started.” 

After hours of running the men through many drills, Arthur ended the session with a bit of sparring. He utilized Leopold and Fletch, having them cross swords with their less experienced brothers. It was almost instantly gratifying. They weren’t perfect, but Arthur could definitely see improvement in the young knights’ technique. Their steps were calculated and strategic rather than rushed and random. There was a long way to go yet, but the sight brought Arthur significant hope. 

The two leaders in the group were also impressed. They praised the younger men, and kept throwing Arthur appreciative glances. The training session drew to a close,  
and the trainees bid Arthur farewell, thanking him for his help. 

As they filtered away, with Leopold still raving about “Sir Gwaine’s genius”, Arthur watched. Fletch came to rest beside him, hand on the hilt of his sword. 

“I’m glad you’ve agreed to continue to train more. They’ve had less training than they should have with more of the senior knights being pulled from the city to help in the farther reaches of the kingdom. What you did today was truly remarkable.” 

Arthur looked at Fletch. 

“I’m happy to do all I can. When you say the senior knights are away…what is it that they are seeking?” 

Fletch looked back at him with steady eyes. 

“You’ve seen that we face something here. There are spies among us, unknown enemies. The attack you helped us repel was but on incident, though granted, the worst of them. There have been small skirmishes all around the kingdom. No one knows where these enemies are coming from, or who is sending them to attack Camelot. They are testing for weaknesses. This was by far the most bold they’ve been. 

Our senior knights were sent to gather intelligence and help secure the borders. Sir Leon leads the charge. He left with a group of his most trusted to attempt to seek out the source of these attacks.” 

While the news was troubling, Arthur had to smile. Sir Leon. Of course it would be Leon. The man was indestructible, incapable of fatigue. The man had come back from the brink of death more times than Arthur could count, always returning to his side. He was glad there would be at least one friend for him from his old life. Though he was undyingly grateful for Leon’s service in his capacity, Arthur couldn’t help but wish he was here so he could talk to his old companion. 

“Leon will do a credible job, I’m certain of it. Camelot is strong. This attack caught us off guard. It won’t again,” Arthur said without doubt. “As for the rest, we shall discover what lies in the shadows.” 

As the words left his mouth, Arthur caught sight of him. The blonde hair standing out against the city walls. Nicholas. He was leading a patrol out of the city gates, head held high with his golden Pendragon crest gleaming proudly in the sun. 

Fletch followed Arthur’s gaze. 

“Ah. A patrol.” 

Arthur hummed in agreement, thoroughly distracted by the sight of his son. Fletch luckily misinterpreted his gaze. 

“Would you be interested in going on a patrol, Sir Gwaine? You would be welcome. Someone with your skill undoubtedly will spot things others will not.” 

Arthur pulled his gaze from Nicholas’s retreating back as he disappeared through the gate, twelve men thundering along behind him. A patrol. Arthur saw the opportunity for what it could be: a chance to get to talk with his son. Remembering his earlier decision to know his boy, Arthur nodded. 

“Yes, Fletch, I would like that. I would like that very much.”


	7. The Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur goes on patrol with the knights of Camelot and meets Nicholas for the first time. While desperately wanting to know every detail about his son and his life, Arthur knows that he must be careful in order not to scare Nicholas into thinking that he is a spy. In the course of the patrol, Arthur discovers additional information about the foe they face and receives an unexpected offer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's been almost a year. 
> 
> Seriously there is no excuse! Working full time for the first time has really taken it's toll. 
> 
> However, I hope that a 6,000 word chapter will help ease the pain I've put you through! It's 3:00AM. I've been writing for about 3 hours now. I am so excited to have continued on with this. I'm excited about the story and hope to have more time to write in future. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this - I'm excited for reactions!

Fletch had come to collect him early that day. Arthur had already been awake. The restlessness of knowing that he would officially meet his son that day had plagued him through the night. The incessant thoughts that ran through his mind wouldn’t stop; despite his sincere attempts to banish them and get some sleep. He couldn’t help but be nervous, excited, and intensely curious all at the same time. 

Nicholas was a young man. Well beyond the age where questions like “What’s your favorite color?” would cut it. Not to mention that Arthur couldn’t exactly interrogate him, or even let on that he was overly interesting in the prince. It would only rouse suspicion. With his sudden arrival and saving of Camelot, Arthur already had too much attention as it was. He couldn’t afford to attract more. The worry gnawing at him was culmination of too many things, and adding the risk of exposing his identity before he was ready to was more than he could even think about. 

First he had to at least have one normal conversation with his son. That was the goal for today. Talk to Nicholas without making a complete fool of himself. He could do that. He hoped. Everything about this whole situation felt a lot like that time at his birthday all those years ago. A gigantic celebration had been planned. There were performers of all kinds - tumblers, minstrels, contortionists, magicians…and knife throwers. They had strapped him to a huge turning wheel and sent him spinning, only to throw sharp knives at him. That was how Arthur felt now: stuck to a wheel spinning out of his control, hoping that the weapons thrown by an enemy would miss him while he tried to get his bearings in this familiar, yet completely new world. 

He had been nearly killed that night, and it was the night that his father died in his arms. Arthur didn’t know how far off this new future would be from that fate…  
Fletch’s knock sent the rampant and morose thoughts from his mind. He stood at the window, watching the rising sun beginning to light the early morning sky. His arms were folded, one hand cupping his elbow tucked close to him while the other hand supported his chin. He brushed his index finger across his lips as he turned, remembering the ring that used to rest there. The ring that had found its home on Guinevere’s finger the day he proposed to her, and again when he proposed the second time, when she was promised to him - with all her heart.

His cape fluttered open slightly in his haste to pull open the door. Errantly, he thought that he missed the red. The black was becoming tiresome to him. He wanted to wear the colors his kingdom again. His colors. To once again proudly bear the Pendragon crest to which he was born. Soon, he told himself. One step at a time.  
The door opened to an alert Fletch. Despite the early hour, his eyes were bright and he offered a slight smile when Arthur came face to face with the young commander. 

He nodded in time to his greeting, “Sir Gwaine.” 

Arthur returned the nod of respect. 

“Good morning, Fletch,” Arthur greeted. 

There was a slight pause before Fletcher lifted his arm in invitation. 

“Shall we go? The rest of the patrol is waiting down below. They’re eager to see you.”

Arthur followed alongside him as they started off down the hall. He closed the door to his room with a sense of finality. He knew then that nothing would be the same after this morning. He was walking away from what he knew, and stepping into something else. 

Fletch made small talk as they made their way down the stairs and into the street. Arthur was greeted again by a group of knights on horseback. He noted that they were in full armor. Swords were ready to be drawn at a second’s notice. Their eyes shifted restlessly, even in the quiet street of Camelot. The attack on the city had shaken them. Arthur could see the nerves ever present in their eyes. He couldn’t blame them. Being attacked in the heart of your home would make anyone question their safety. Question who they could trust. Being constantly on alert for traitors and enemies in your midst was a very wearing way to live. Arthur knew that better than most people.  
After introducing everyone in the circle, Fletch mounted his horse. Arthur stood awkwardly for a moment, realizing that he had no mount. Before he could be embarrassed enough to ask, young William, who had been in his original company to Camelot, ponied forward a powerful bay gelding that did not bear a rider to stop right in front of Arthur. The now relaxed knights all smiled amused grins. 

William winked, “You didn’t think we’d make you walk, did you, Sir Gwaine?”

Arthur had to laugh a little at that. “Well, William, I know what kind of host you are. I would not have put it passed you!” he good naturedly ribbed. 

He was slightly distracted as he mounted up. Glaringly obvious to him was the fact that Nicholas was no where to be found. His horse automatically trotted off with everyone else as they set off, jolting Arthur slightly, making him curse himself under his breath to pay attention at least enough to not fall off his horse. He had no doubt that would amuse his company greatly, but he had no desire to embarrass himself. Of course, if Merlin had been here, he would have happily embarrassed Arthur on purpose and laughed to boot. 

After a few streets, finally Arthur could no longer stand the suspense of the unknown. 

“So…” he began cautiously, toeing the line of curiosity, “is Prince Nicholas not joining us this morning?” he hoped that didn’t sound too disappointed. These men had been so enthusiastic in their greetings, overjoyed to be meeting the hero of the recent retaking of the city. He didn’t want them to think that he was bored to be out with only them for this patrol. 

They turned to look at him curiously, but blessedly did not look offended. 

“Ah Nicholas,” quipped John from next to him, “late, as usual.”

More of the men laughed. 

“Is that a usual trait of his?” Arthur asked eagerly, grateful for any information he could get. 

Fletch huffed a laugh, “You could say that. The prince takes his duties very seriously, but the boy does have a tendency to run a little on the later side. Always has some idea in his head. Personally, I think he gets it from his uncle.” 

Uncle? Arthur’s ears perked at the comment. What uncle? Arthur was an only child, and Gwen’s only brother, Elyan, had been killed years ago now. 

“Oh?” he managed as cooly as he could. 

“Oh definitely,” nodded another knight in the group, Rowland, Arthur thought his name was. 

“Merlin has always helped Nicholas into all sorts of trouble,” Fletch clarified. “Though, he’s always there to get him out of it too,” Fletch smiled at some memory that only he knew. Though the smile faded a bit as he said, "Nicholas is more serious now. The threat we face has everyone on edge."

Arthur’s heart stopped. Merlin. Nicholas’s Uncle Merlin. 

“Anyway,” Fletch continued, “Nicholas isn’t late today. He is meeting us at the castle. He needed to report to the queen before riding out this morning.”

Arthur’s heart was racing now. He wanted to ask more about Merlin, but he knew that would be far too dangerous. He had no idea how much about Merlin these knights knew, or were supposed to know. The time was passed anyway, the conversation had moved on while Arthur had been struck dumb with his shock and hope. He decided to table that conversation for now. If he was lucky, Merlin may come up again. By the time he had recovered and was present in the task of taking a look around, he realized that they were approaching the entrance to the square at the foot of the palace steps. 

They thundered through the arch in neat rows of two after Fletch, Arthur directly behind him. He couldn’t count all the times that he had done this very thing. Returning home to the palace after hard won battles and good times alike. He could almost see Merlin trailing after him on the steps as he listed the chores he had for him that day. The Arthur in his mind’s eye disappeared with a swish of his cape around the corner. Another young man replaced him on the stair, descending confidently, pulling on his gloves. Nicholas. 

A groom had his mount at the foot, patiently holding the horse’s bridle. Nicholas ran his fingers through his slightly curly dirty blond hair as he stretched his foot to the stirrup. He swung up easily, a telltale sign of his countless hours on horseback. He thanked the stable boy genuinely before turning to clasp arms with Fletch. 

“Fletch my good man,” Nicholas said as Fletch brought his other hand up to clap the prince on the shoulder. They were clearly great friends. 

Arthur drunk in the sight of him, the sound of his voice. He watched his interactions with Fletch, the way they easily fell into their patterns. Nicholas good naturedly greeted his knights with a kind smile. Though he seemed almost playful, he was focused, and ready for business. 

Arthur saw so much of his mother it took his breath away. Those eyes drank in everything the same way hers did - with so much light and curiosity, yet decisiveness. Suddenly those startlingly blue eyes turned on him, and Arthur saw the twin of his, the eyes that Nicholas had inherited looking right at him. He remembered to breathe and tried not to stare gapingly. 

He couldn’t find his voice, and honestly, he wasn't sure what he should say. Or even if he should say anything. Wouldn’t it be better to let him speak first? After all, he was the prince of Camelot. A part of Arthur laughed at the irony. Here he was, struck entirely dumb due to not knowing if he was supposed to let his son speak first due to his status as royalty. Gwen would have given him that look she reserved for times that Arthur didn’t know how to act like a regular human being. He cleared his throat.  
Luckily, it was then that Fletch came to his rescue, as per usual. 

“Nicholas, I’d like you to meet the man I told you about, Sir Gwaine. He has done much for Camelot, and for me personally as well. He wanted to join us on the patrol, to see if he could help.”

Nicholas smiled appreciatively, “Welcome to Camelot, Sir Gwaine. I’m grateful for your aid. From what I hear, I have you to thank for the safe return of the city.” He extended his arm then, offering it to him. 

Arthur grasped it and shook. It clicked then, and he returned the smile. 

“Thank you, sire,” he returned, finally remembering what people used to call him when he had been crown prince. “I am proud to have been of service to you and to Camelot. I hope to be of further service now and in the future. This is my home.” 

Nicholas released his arm and a cautiously grateful expression stole across his face. 

“We are in need of good men, Sir Gwaine. More than I can tell you.” 

The twin eyes released him as he reined his horse to depart. The company fell in, galloping out the same way they had come in. 

The ride away from the city was quiet, Camelot’s residents not yet awake to give rise to the bustle of activity that would quickly take hold in the later morning. The city gave way to forest and the company slowed to a slackened pace to alertly scan the hills for any sign of trouble. 

Arthur knew that the goal of this expedition should not only be to watch for pending trouble. It must be to discover clues as to how the recent attack had befallen the city. Tracking the direction from which the invaders had come could prove invaluable intelligence in starting to learn what threat they now faced.

Despite his preoccupation with learning more about Nicholas, Arthur had not forgotten about the nameless adversary that had inspired a dozen battle hardened mercenaries to fall on their swords rather than fail in their mission. He had not forgotten the words of threat that their leader had hissed to Nicholas in the courtyard of his home. The master of the evil that was trying to sink its claws into Camelot must be unmasked. No, he had not forgotten.

It was impossible to fight a enemy you couldn’t name or directly face. Without something or someone to fight, they would merely be chasing smoke. There was too much at stake to simply wait for the continued attacks to find their way to them on the enemy’s terms. They had to change the terms of this fight. 

Arthur was not fully informed about what had been happening in his kingdom, but he knew that they needed to know much more than they did now if there was any hope of standing against this foe. 

It began at the walls. Arthur called out to Fletch and Nicholas when he spotted it. 

Nicholas held up a fist to signal a halt and listened patiently and attentively. 

“Do you see here?” Arthur called over his shoulder as he pointed to notches in the tree limbs near the walls of the city. 

Nicholas instantly rode directly up to his side, Fletch close behind. 

Arthur pulled up directly next to the trunk of the tree in question. His gloved hands easily picked out the notches that had been carved into the bark, just wide enough to provide foot and hand holds. His eyes traveled up, following the grooves to the spy’s resting place. 

“They observed the city for a long time before they struck,” Arthur concluded aloud. “These handholds are well worn. They used them frequently. Likely every day for weeks,” he told Nicholas. 

The prince looked intrigued. 

“Why weeks? Wouldn’t they only have needed to send scouts hours ahead of them to sight for their force?” 

Arthur shook his head slightly. 

“Think of it Nicholas,” he began, “they entered the city in smaller groups to avoid detection. That would take time. They didn’t all enter on the same day. Far from it. This band of mercenaries was smart. They observed the city, noting it’s patrols, it’s patterns, the timing of the rotation of the guards at the gates. Not only that. They must have also known the people’s habits as well.”

Fletch looked back at him worriedly. Nicholas’s brow furrowed. 

“Why the people? What had they to gain from that?” 

Arthur looked back with dismay. 

“Because of their plan to use the citizens as human shields. That never would have worked unless they knew the best places they would be able to isolate them into groups. They knew what areas would be most populated at certain points in the day. The market, for example. At different hours, that area is congested, full of citizens that would be easily blockaded and trapped. They knew exactly where to send their men to most easily achieve that goal in multiple points in the city. 

They knew everything. They studied; they didn’t guess or get lucky.”

The men gathered behind them listening to Arthur’s explanation shared worried looks. The horses fidgeted with the nervous energy of their riders. Nicholas looked at Fletch. His hand covered his mouth as he thought of how his people had been stalked and packaged for mercenaries sent to destroy them. 

Finally, he spoke, pain in his voice.

“How did we miss this? How did I miss this? It is my duty to prevent things like this from happening,” his statement betrayed his youth, his desperation at what he perceived as a complete failure to his people and lack of experience. 

Arthur had been in his shoes. He knew was he was feeling now. His hand rose as he reached to put a comforting hand on Nicholas’s shoulder, but fell short into his horse’s mane as he realized that doing so would be an act too intimate for someone he had barely met that seemingly had no connection to him. 

He spoke quietly instead, “The enemy we face is no fool. They are intelligent and strategic, beyond anything you’ve likely faced before. These would have been scouts. Sent individually, disguised at single travelers. They would have camped in the deep woods. 

When they first arrived, they would have appeared harmless to any patrol that came across them. It is easy to explain a lone traveler, headed to whatever destination. It’s likely that they met a patrol or two on their way. They would not be perceived as a threat. I would not have thought twice about it myself. 

Then, as they learned the patrol schedules, they easily learned to avoid being encountered ever again. 

This would not have been prevented by the usual protocols. It would have been impossible. You must not blame yourself. Guilt can be consuming. Do not let it.” Arthur spoke these words with conviction. It was the best way he could comfort his son in that moment. 

Nicholas’s head came up with determination. 

“Thank you, Sir Gwaine. We will immediately change all the patrol schedules, guard shifts, and any other short of organized activity. They will be unrecognizable from what they were before. And we will do this often, to avoid falling into patterns that can be exploited by our enemies.”

Arthur admired his strength. He was proud. He bowed his head in deference.

“A wise plan, your majesty.” 

Yes, Nicholas was strong, but Arthur saw the buried guilt that stayed in his eyes as he turned to led the group away. This was something that would live with him. Arthur didn’t blame him. He remembered the first time that he had realized that Morgana, his sister, had betrayed him. He remembered looking into her eyes and realizing that the girl he had grown up with and loved was no longer there. He remembered torturing himself for years to come, wondering why he hadn’t seen it sooner. 

Gwen had been the one that helped him through it in time. She had been closer to Morgana than anyone. She, too, felt the bitter sting of that betrayal. It was because of Gwen’s love and support that Arthur had finally been able to forgive himself and accept that there were things in this world that you could not control. He had accepted that he was not responsible for the hate that Morgana felt. 

Arthur continued to point things out during their patrol, suggesting that they follow the curve of the walls. The trees from which the scouts had mapped Camelot were spaced around the entire perimeter of the city. It was clear that they had been very thorough, had seen the city from every possible angle. 

Deeper into the woods, they found evidence of camps left behind by the groups of men in nearly every direction. They had spaced themselves well, not following the same approach so as to leave a more obvious trail. They were too cunning for that. They had surrounded Camelot, circling it like the predators they were. 

Despite the men’s careful efforts not to leave behind evidence, Arthur found it anyway. All the years he had spent hunting in these woods were coming back to him, and before long, he found himself noticing small clues, like patches of bushes brushed back in unnatural ways, snapped twigs, and soft, barely there, indents in the moss from boots. 

They followed several lines of approach back toward their source until they couldn’t anymore. After following a third, Arthur knew. But he checked again, and then again, because he didn’t want to believe it.

“Your highness,” he addressed Nicholas from where he was standing on the ground. 

Nicholas immediately dismounted, leading his horse by the reins to stand next to Arthur.

“What is it, Gwaine?” Nicholas asked intently. 

Arthur had been impressed with Nicholas today. Not only was he a brave and kind leader, he was also impressively intelligent, and wanted to learn. Throughout the day, he had pointed out tell tale signs that Arthur had missed several times. The boy was well schooled, surely, but he had instincts that he allowed to guide him that made him an intuitive tracker. 

“I’m afraid I can now see a pattern,” Arthur murmured. 

Nicholas looked confused, “Isn’t that a good thing?” 

William, the nearest to them, shifted his weight uncomfortably in nervousness at their hushed words. Arthur felt a bit sorry to have to say it. He knew that it would frighten them. And it should. 

“Well, the thing is, all the paths lead back to here. To this spot in the woods. All of them. But after this, the trail ends.”

Arthur hoped he wouldn’t have to say it aloud, but Nicholas watched him expectantly. Arthur griped the hilt of Excalibur hard enough to feel the pulse in his palm. 

“They appear here. There is no leading up to this point. The men simply come into existence at this particular spot in the forest.”

Nicholas’s eyes widened as he fully grasped his meaning. 

“You mean they are placed here, likely by magic. There is no way of telling where they came from because the direction does not exist. They arrive at this spot, no other origin.”

Arthur nodded solemnly. There would be no way to track them from the direction from whence they had really come. They had arrived in the kingdom by magic - as if walking through a door that transported them through space to arrive precisely in these woods. 

Nicholas didn’t look shocked. Surprised, but not shocked. In fact, he had a bit of understanding in his eyes. 

Arthur watched him with a hunch. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

Nicholas broke from his thoughts. 

“It is as Uncle Leon and Uncle Percival suspected,” he said lowly. “The enemy arrives in Camelot through a path other than our borders. They have long thought they had to have some other aid. There is no way to enter Camelot without the border garrisons knowing about it. Especially with the increased security we have instated there. My uncles were sent to oversee that very effort. I now see the proof that they were right,” Nicholas confided. 

He suddenly turned and remounted his horse, pulled back into his role. 

“We must return to Camelot. The queen must know of this at once.”

Arthur hurried to his horse and joined the rest of the men. 

The ride back was impatient. While the desire to gallop home was nearly stronger than they could bear, the company knew that they had to take it at a moderate pace, lest they miss anything out of place. 

Nicholas’s shoulders were tense, and the energy rolled off him in waves. Fletch fell back, seeming to sense that Arthur’s connection with Nicholas was doing him good. 

“So,” Arthur began, “you seem to have a lot of uncles.” 

There was a stellar conversation starter. Ask the boy about the uncles that weren’t really his uncles, but old friends of his who would recognize “Sir Gwaine” for who he really was at first sight. 

Nicholas looked over at him, a small smile winning over his features. Arthur couldn’t help but notice how the sprinkling of freckles across his nose were highlighted by this. 

“Well, they aren’t really my uncles. Not by blood anyway,” he quickly amended. 

“Oh?” It was killing Arthur to be this restrained. He wanted to know everything about what Leon, Percival, and especially Merlin were doing now as well as what they had been doing for the last twenty years. He knew he had to be careful, though. Revealing that he knew these men better than nearly anyone alive (which he hadn’t been until recently) would be dangerous. Nicholas would certainly think him deranged at best or a spy at worst. 

Patience. He had to have patience and let the boy reveal things organically. Arthur’s frustration was nearly tangible. For what felt like the millionth time, Arthur cursed the fact that that clotpole Merlin had not been there to meet him at his awakening. 

“They are close friends of my mother's,” Nicholas went on, to Arthur’s relief. “The closest thing we have to family. I grew up shadowing their every step,” he said fondly. 

“It’s because of them that I can track like that. And fight, ride, and just about everything else.” 

Arthur smiled. His brothers had taken the best of care with his son. He had expected no less of them. They were among the most honorable men he had ever had the opportunity to know. 

“You fight very well,” Arthur commented. 

Nicholas’s eyes flashed over to him. 

“You think so?” 

“Yes,” Arthur reassured him. “I saw you, that day in the square, during the battle. Without you, your men likely would have fallen before help arrived. It’s because of you that the city held.” 

Nicholas shrugged modestly. 

“We do what we can. I serve my people and my kingdom. I love Camelot. It is not only my duty to protect her and what she stands for, but my right and my wish.”

Arthur again felt pride swell in his chest. This boy was everything he could have ever dreamed. He was much more mature than Arthur had been at this age. He cringed just thinking about it. Without Gwen and Merlin, who taught him to be human first and a royal second, he shuddered to think what would have become of him. Who he would have been. 

“My uncles have done a great deal. I have studied with them my whole life. And with my mother of course,” he chuckled.

Arthur’s curiosity overcame him in that moment. 

“I hear Gwen - Queen Guinevere, I mean,” Arthur hurriedly corrected himself, “is involved with training the knights. Is that true?” 

Nicholas looked at him quizzically. He had not missed Arthur’s slip. He stared a moment. Arthur felt a bead of sweat drip down his neck. A foolish mistake! One that could cost him. How could he address Gwen so informally to Nicholas! To him, Arthur was a complete stranger. A stranger on first name basis with the Queen of Camelot. Alarm bells had to be ringing in his head. 

Arthur would have been suspicious had their positions been reversed.

Nicholas thought for a second more before answering. 

“Yes, my mother takes great interest in such matters. She believes that Camelot’s defenders should know that their sovereign cares for them. She was teaching me from a young age what it meant to be a true defender of your people.” 

Nicholas rode on, seeming to drop the conversation. Arthur let him, not wanting to press further, and definitely not wanting to give rise to any additional suspicions. They rode the rest of the way to the city in silence. 

When they returned the palace square, the castle was alive with activity. Once they came to a halt, everyone dismounted and began making preparations to return their horses to the stables. Arthur patted his gelding’s neck. The horse had been a good fit for him and had done well. He stroked his glossy coat, preparing to say goodbye.  
Nicholas was suddenly at his shoulder. 

“Was he to your satisfaction?” he asked, holding his reins in one hand as the other joined Arthur’s on the gelding’s neck. 

“More than satisfactory, sire. A fine animal, a worthy partner.”

Arthur tried to had the reins over to Nicholas, returning the horse. Nicholas smiled and shook his head. 

“He is yours to keep, Gwaine.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. A horse such as this was a generous gift. Before he could speak, Nicholas went on. 

“On a condition.” He smiled, “Join the knights of Camelot.”

Arthur froze. 

“You not only have saved this city from a brutal and potentially crippling attack, but you have proved yourself invaluable. Not only that. You have proven your love for Camelot. I would be honored to count you among the knights that protect this kingdom. 

As crown prince, I am authorized to offer this. But my mother will agree. You must meet her!” 

“Yes,” Arthur blurted out. He knew he probably should have considered more carefully before accepting this offer from Nicholas, but the pull of his home was strong, and it was his birthright to be its protector. With the added offer of being reunited with Gwen, the offer was far too good to refuse. 

Nicholas’s eyes lit up. 

“Excellent!” he grasped Arthur’s arm to shake. “You are instated then, immediately.” 

He clapped him on the back enthusiastically. 

“Now is as good a time as any,” he declared. 

Arthur looked back at him, awestruck. 

“What will be my first duty?” Arthur asked, a wide smile stealing across his face. 

Nicholas smiled back, “Meeting our queen, of course!” 

His heart leaped. Meet the queen, see Gwen face to face again for the first time in twenty years! It was everything he wanted. And yet…was he ready? He had met his son. They had gotten along well and he had granted him a knighthood without knowing who he truly was. 

Gwen would recognize him from the second that she saw him. But that was good, right? Or…would Gwen think him a ghost? Something sent by this evil to trick her into thinking that her husband had returned to her, even if he really had. Would this be too much of a shock for her? 

Arthur didn’t have too long to think, as Nicholas had already handed their reins to a stable boy and was steering Arthur to the steps. It was then that Arthur saw her. Just as regal as he remembered her. She was walking through the hall on her way to the top of the steps, no doubt to greet her son, returned from his patrol. 

He watched with quickened breath as he caught flashes of her through the pillars that obstructed his view of her every few feet. Her long, curly hair fell in a soft wave to the small of her back, just as it had twenty years ago. 

She was wearing blue. The same shade as the day that he had reclaimed her from the dark magic that Morgana had stolen her from him with. He could almost feel the shape of her face cradled against the palm of his hand. He remembered her kiss. What would it be like, to finally embrace her after being separated for so long? Rapture - that is all he could guess. 

And then she was there, at the top of the steps, looking for their son. He could see all of her face now. Slightly older than he had seen her last, but it didn’t look like she’d aged much at all. She still had the same expressive eyes, though they held but a slight trace of laughter lines. Her elegant features still framed her face in the beauty that radiated from her soul. 

Seeing her again woke emotion in Arthur that he hadn’t felt in full force for decades. Being back in his body was still disorienting, he was feeling things for the first time all over again. In that moment, it was too much. The physical feeling of that emotion threatened to bowl him over. 

He broke from Nicholas’s grasp, and quickly threw out, “Your majesty, I’m sorry, but perhaps another time. I am late for an appointment with Captain Leopold. We are drilling the young knights.” 

Arthur didn’t wait for response, he simply bowed and half ran from the square, trying to catch his breath from the force of everything he was feeling. He could feel eyes on his back and hear quickened steps on the stairs. He ran. 

Nicholas watched him go, Fletch beside him urging him to give him some time. 

“Gwaine doesn’t like spotlight, Nick,” Fletch soothed the prince from the shock of having Gwaine suddenly run away from him. “Give him some time to adjust. He’ll come around.”

Nicholas reluctantly agreed. Gwaine had been fine only a few minutes before. He wondered what had made him change so quickly. 

“Nick!” 

He turned to smile at his mother, who had rushed down to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Mother,” he greeted, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Queen Guinevere Pendragon’s eyes were still searching for the man who had just run from the square. Her hands were clutching the skirt of her blue taffeta gown. The intricate beading feeling rough in her hands. Her headpiece bobbed a bit as she leaned around her son to try to see which way that knight had gone. Seeing that he was now well beyond range, she returned her attention to Nick. 

Dropping her skirt, she pulled him into an embrace. 

“I’m so glad you’ve returned safely,” she said lovingly, releasing him. 

She touched Fletch’s face affectionately. 

“You too, Fletcher. How did you fare?” 

Nicholas looked into his mother’s eyes. She could tell that he didn’t come with good news. 

“I see,” she said.

Nicholas took her hands, “Not all of it is good, but we know more now. Thanks to help from a new friend.” 

Gwen nodded. She would hear about this, but not here, out in the open square. These types of meetings demanded to be held in the most secure rooms in the castle. She looked to the arch again. Nick turned to follow her gaze.

“What is it, mother?” he queried. 

She paused, not wanting to voice a silly notion of something she thought she saw. She couldn’t very well look her son in the eye and tell him that she was nearly certain she had just seen his father. Arthur had been gone twenty years, and yet, she still saw him everywhere. 

She asked a question instead. 

“Who was that? The man who just left?” even she could hear the desperation in her voice. 

Nick looked back at her curiously. Before he could answer, Fletch supplied the name.

“It was Sir Gwaine,” he said matter-of-factly. 

The name seemed to reverberate around her head. 

“Gwaine?” she repeated, stunned. “You’re sure that is his name? The man that just left here? You’re sure?” she had stepped closer to Fletcher in her hastily uttered questions. She took a step back and tried to school her features. 

“Yes, very sure. He was a great help to us today.”

Nick chimed in then, “Absolutely. Mother, I’ve made him a knight.”

Her silence met the statement. Nick looked unsettled, and began to defend the choice. 

“Mother, he was the one that freed the reinforcements in the battle to free the city. He helped us with valuable tracking today. Valuable information. And he is an incredible fighter. You should hear the men speak of him. Those that saw him fight during the battle describe him as the best they’ve ever seen. You’ll like him, I promise.” 

Gwen snapped out of her shock at hearing that name, one of her dear friends that had given his life, and smiled, placing a placating hand on Nick’s shoulder. 

“I’m sure I will Nick. You know that I trust your judgement. Besides, it seems that I must meet this hero of a man.” 

They started back up the steps. 

“You will, mother, very soon. I would have brought him to you just now had he not rushed off.” 

Gwen hummed in agreement. They had nearly reached the top of the stairway. Nick couldn’t keep the question in any longer. 

“Why did you look after him so?” 

They stepped out on the landing, and Gwen turned to look out toward the arch yet again before leading Nick down the hall into the castle.

“I thought he looked like someone I knew.”


	8. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Arthur's knighting ceremony has come. 
> 
> However, both he and Gwen are embroiled in other concerns. Arthur struggles with the decisions he has yet to make. He doesn't know what to do about Gwen, or Nicholas for that matter. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Gwen is convinced she is going mad. She can't seem to get the mysterious Sir Gwaine out of her head. 
> 
> The decisions they make next affect more than just themselves. Will they find a way to know for certain what they have to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...this chapter got away from me. 
> 
> Things are heating up in Albion. It's 4:20AM. Why is it that my best writing happens in the middle of the night? 
> 
> Ah well, best not to question the muse, lest it disappear! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Gwen stood gazing blankly out of the window. The forearm of her left arm rested on the top of her throne, fingers idly rubbing together. Her right hand absently tugged at a curl, pulling it straight before releasing it to spring back to shape. 

Her mind was elsewhere, and had been for days. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a beam directly onto the chair she leaned against. She remembered the way Arthur used to stand in this very spot, his back turned to the door, arms folded while he seemed to watch the daylight fade as the light through the window slowly retreated. Sometimes he seemed so lost to the world that she felt wrong for intruding on his thoughts in his solitude. 

She’d found him here countless times, catching glimpses of him between the pillars as she made her way to him from the side of the room. There had been many nights when she had come looking for him, only to see the candles burning low with Arthur unmoved. She would enter quietly, slowly, as not to startle him. She knew he was aware that she was there, but he didn’t move. 

She would slip up behind him before winding her arms around him and pressing herself up to his back in an embrace. After a moment, he would come back to life, his hands finding hers in a squeeze that conveyed the love he felt for her. She’d feel him sigh, just hugging her to him for a moment before turning in her arms to cradle her face between his large hands. Remembering the way he looked at her made her heart beat a bit faster even now. Then, with love in his eyes, he’d lean down and kiss her. Sweetly, gently, before slipping his fingers between hers and holding her hand the whole way to bed.

Gwen’s hand came up to her lips, to touch them at the memory of Arthur’s kiss. 

Arthur…

In twenty years she had never stopped missing him. Never stopped loving him. Not for one second of a single day. And she knew that she never would. 

Gwen had spent the last three days wondering if she’d finally gone mad. The man she’d caught a glimpse of from the top of the stairs, Gwaine, Nicholas and Fletch had named him. But she could have sworn…she shied away from the thought, thinking for what felt like the thousandth time that it sounded too insane to even be repeated in the sanctity of her mind. Nonetheless, Gwen had to think it, because it was still there, echoing. That man had looked exactly like Arthur. 

She saw it, even now in her mind’s eye. The exact replica of the scene. The man had the same golden blond hair as Arthur, the same broad shoulders. She had mostly seen his profile, and it had felt like a dream, because it was the profile that she had spent at least a decade memorizing, and two of them remembering. Or so she thought. She had to let go of this delusion. Arthur was gone. She had accepted this long ago. 

Yet, here she was. Replaying this mysterious Gwaine rushing from the palace square over and over. 

She’d been walking along the corridor with an advisor, catching up on a few things while on her way to greet her son. Nicholas had returned at last. He’d been gone nearly the entire day. She was eager to speak to him. She’d been worried since the attack on the city. Her boy had been brave and his leadership had helped save their people. She could not be more proud. However, pride would not prevent her from losing him to the enemy. Her son was everything to Gwen. She loved her kingdom and her people, but her love for her son would always come first. Arthur’s son. 

Her advisor had been discussing the border defenses. She was nodding along, eager to just see Nicholas and be done with the official talk for at least a bit when she’d caught sight of him. Nicholas was shaking his hand. He appeared to be rather happy about something. That brought a smile to Gwen’s lips. Nick hadn’t smiled in a long while. Then, when Nick shifted out of the way, she saw the stranger’s profile. Gwen’s steps faltered. She couldn’t have seen that. 

One of the horses shuffled over a step and the men were hidden from view. She shook her head and continued walking, the advisor beside her all but forgotten. A trick of the mind, that was all, she reassured herself. Still, she picked up her pace. 

At the top of the steps, she briefly saw him again, his eyes flashing up to steal a look at her. It hit her again. The blue eyes that looked back at her were identical to her son’s. It was then that she hurriedly gathered up her skirt and began barreling down the steps with what was almost recklessness. Though she attempted to remain at least slightly in control. It wouldn’t do for the queen of Camelot to break her leg - or worse - running down the stairs after a stranger that she was crazy enough to believe was her husband who’d been dead for twenty years. 

She had to watch the steps coming under her feet in her haste. When she glanced up, the man was already hurrying away from Nicholas, his back to her. When she reached the ground, he was long gone through the arched entrance. She strained to look after him, to see if she had really seen what she thought she had. It was too late, she realized. 

“Nick!” she called instead.

He turned to look at her, and her breath returned, looking at him smiling back at her. 

“Mother,” he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. 

Gwen felt her heart rate slow significantly while she looked at her son. He looked so like his father. That was Arthur’s chin, his shoulders, his hair, and of course, undeniably, those were his eyes. 

Despite herself, Gwen tried to stealthily look past Nick quickly to see if she could once again catch a glimpse of her mystery man. She already knew it was pointless, and that she was succeeding in looking desperate. 

She focused on Nick and Fletch and learned that the man’s name was Gwaine. Gwaine - of all the names, honestly. This day was getting progressively more alarming for her memory. Nick told her about this knight, the one that had helped him so. Gwen continued to convince herself in her mind that this really was Nicholas’s Sir Gwaine and nothing more. 

They were preparing to head up the steps. Unable to control the urge, she took one last glance at the arch before turning to walk back up the stairs. She knew Nick had noticed. 

She put her hand on his shoulder, offering placating words before leading them back up the steps. Nick and Fletch bantered in their usual brotherly manner the entire way up. Her mind was racing, but Gwen rationalized over and over in her mind with every step. The knight was simply standing directly next to Nicholas. That was what she was seeing. Arthur was practically written in every movement of Nick’s body. His face was reflected in that of his son’s. It was Nick she was seeing. His resemblance to his father - not this mystery stranger. This knight was not Arthur. It was Nick’s eyes she had seen and mistaken for this Sir Gwaine’s. 

Surely.

Nick couldn’t help but ask his question then. 

“Why did you look after him so?” 

Distracted as she was, Gwen fought a small smile that threatened to erupt. His father’s son indeed. 

They stepped out on the landing, and Gwen turned to look out toward the arch yet again before leading Nick down the hall into the castle.

“I thought he looked like someone I knew.”

That was where the memory ended. She had been constantly replaying it over the last three days. Again and again convincing herself that hadn’t seen what she thought, and slowly beginning to wonder if she truly was now on the road to madness. She sighed. Twenty years was a good run, she supposed. She laughed a little to herself. Merlin would have laughed too. 

Merlin had kept Gwen together after Arthur was gone. They had grieved together. Cried. Lashed out. But more than anything, they had supported each other. Gwen grew into her own as the sole monarch with the help of her friends who stood by her. Arthur’s closest friends her lifelines in the dawn of the age after Arthur. 

Gwen had always been a strong, just, compassionate, and competent ruler. However, being alone in doing so was not easy. Just as much as she had been Arthur’s voice of reason, his confidant, he had been hers. The piece of her that died with him made building on the peace that had been Arthur’s parting gift bittersweet. 

Memories, errant thoughts, and worries clouded Gwen’s focus as she stood in the spot where Arthur had. 

“Mother.”

She started, jumping to face the voice that had pulled her from her reverie. 

Nicholas stood looking back at her, hands resting casually on the hilt of his sword. He smiled, amused. 

“Daydreaming again?” 

Gwen brushed her hands down the front of her skirt, wondering if Nick could tell how frazzled she was. 

“Oh yes,” she joked back, “about the days when you were less trouble,” she gently swatted his arm. 

Nick shook his head. 

“You know I’m not the one who you have to worry about, mother. It’s Uncle Merlin that’s constantly in trouble.”

Gwen’s smile faltered a bit at the mention of Merlin. 

“Your Uncle Merlin does have a knack for that does’t he?” she whispered, her attempt to remain upbeat failing. 

Seeing that he’d unintentionally dampened her spirits, Nick gently placed Gwen’s arm through the crook of his elbow. 

“We must be going now,” he stated grandiosely, exaggerating with a sweep of his arm, “or the advisors will begin to wonder if we’ve finally gotten up the nerve to stand them up.” 

Gwen’s head dropped back slightly in a full laugh, her curls bouncing as she patted Nick’s arm and followed as he escorted her through the door. She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. She had Nicholas. No one was luckier than she. 

***

The hair stood up on the back of Arthur’s neck. He stiffened slightly, but not enough to give away the fact that he knew they were there. His feet shifted infinitesimally, the grass soft, no sound betraying his movement despite the armor he wore. 

A breath. He waited. Another breath. With grace and power, Arthur whirled around, sword coming up to parry the strike dealt by his young student. After neatly staying the junior knight’s swing, Arthur went easy on him for a few more seconds, using his footwork to simply avoid his efforts to strike. He could tell he was getting frustrated. The young man’s attacks became more desperate, and increasingly sloppy. Deciding that the time for the true lesson was at hand, Arthur nimbly turned away abruptly, spinning before bringing the flat of his blade down on the backs of Thomas’s knees, causing him his feet to fly out from underneath him and land him squarely on the ground. 

Arthur smiled down at Thomas while the other gathered knights of his training session laughed good naturedly while Thomas lay stunned. 

“You see, Thomas,” Arthur instructed patiently, “the true test of this is not only in your stealth. It is in your ability to foresee the opponent’s counters to your attacks while keeping a calm and level head. Your desire to hit me outweighed your anticipation of the true danger,” he offered him his hand. Thomas groaned a little before accepting Arthur’s help to his feet. 

After giving Thomas a solid pat to the back, Arthur turned to face the rest of the men. 

“Attacks made in anger or desperation are often thoughtless. Righteous rage can be a tool in combat. Blind rage, or revenge bent attacks, more often lead to your defeat. We fight for a reason. A purpose. Not only to best our enemy.”

His eyes roved the company in front of him. Arthur had lost control before. It never led to anything good. The purpose of the fight was much more important than simply winning. The unnecessary shedding of blood was no victory. Camelot would always fight for justice, for what was right. Though, above all, what Arthur sought, for his kingdom and his people, was peace. 

“As for those you who laughed,” Arthur continued with a little foreboding, “your turn is coming.” 

The startled look on their faces brought a chuckle out of Arthur. 

“Go on then, back to your exercises.” 

The knights quickly shuffled off to get back to the repetitions that Arthur had assigned them while they awaited their turn for a one on one lesson with either Arthur himself or one of the other senior knights. Fletch, Captain Leopold, and a few others that Arthur had been introduced to earlier were helping with his drills this morning. 

Things were going well with the training that Arthur was calling back from his memory. The tactics were effective, and the younger knights were improving at a rapid rate. Camelot’s knights were absolutely disciplined. Arthur was pleased to see that they were in good shape. Nicholas did a good job with them. Arthur’s adjustments to their training were to fine tune the mechanics of their movements, as well as to instill the correct mindset. Much of Arthur’s instruction was meant to improve their strategy and ability to think under pressure. Most of the twenty years Arthur had been away had been a peaceful time. Many of these knights hadn’t seen much of real combat. 

As grateful for that as Arthur was, he had to prepare them for what was coming. The time of tranquil peace was behind them. Unfortunate as it was, Arthur knew they could not be blind to it. There were those who plotted Camelot’s downfall. Somewhere in the darkness as well as plain sight, their enemies waited to see them stumble. This enemy was ruthless. Arthur had already been witness to that in their attack on the city. 

There was no honor in the men who hated his kingdom. While his men were instilled with it, he had to train them not to expect it elsewhere. 

His next trainee was a few yards away, getting last minute instruction from Fletch. Arthur nodded to him, and the young man returned the acknowledgment. He looked a little nervous. Arthur smiled encouragingly before turning around to survey the training grounds. Part of the exercise was to have the knights try to catch him off guard. Arthur did his best to become engrossed in other things to afford the boy a chance. 

He had agreed to come to the regular training fields today, despite his lingering embarrassment and, admittedly, slight fear. The space looked practically unchanged, despite the fact that so many years had passed. The free standing racks still held well used swords, spears, and maces. 

He’d used Merlin as a moving target on this field more times than he could possibly count. He had taught many men on this field. He’d witnessed many come into themselves as true fighters, protectors of their people. It was here that he’d checked the passing windows for Gwen, to see if he could manage to catch her watching and attempt to impress her. It took him some time to figure out that was his compassion, leadership, and strength in fighting for truth that impressed his wife. 

Thinking of Gwen brought back his episode from a few days earlier. That’s what he referred to it as now, the episode. Of course, it would have to happen right then. Ten yards from finally being reunited with his one true love. His wife that he had been pining for from beyond the veil for twenty years right in front of him, and his body decides to betray him and have a fit. 

It wasn’t as if he had inconspicuously excused himself with a gracefully unnoticeable exit. Oh no. He had _run_ from the square. Run. Away. In the opposite direction of his stunningly beautiful wife that he was mere seconds from getting to say, “Remember me, by chance? Your husband?” to. Well, he would have said something better than that, but that was beside the point. 

Despite his frustration with himself, Arthur had to admit that at the time, he truly had felt as though he had little choice. The revolution of intense feelings had hit him like a brick wall that struck him like a sword catching him straight across the chest. Suddenly, he had felt as though he could barely breathe. The intensity of the emotions rolled through him like waves, causing physical sensations that were all at once completely and utterly overwhelming. 

Arthur had thought that he was completely settled back into his body, but right then, it felt a lot like he was about to jump right back out of it. His heart had been thundering so hard against his chest that it was causing him pain. The shortness of breath, combined with twitching limbs had caught him off guard. It was too much to handle. As a result, he had been forced to retreat or suffer some unknown consequence that he sensed was coming. 

It took him a few hours to settle himself back to feeling normal. The excitement and perhaps apprehension at seeing his beloved again had set off a reaction. After worrying and tossing it around in his mind all night, Arthur had come to a conclusion that appeased some of his fear. He decided that he had to ease himself back into these emotions. After all, he had literally come back from the dead. There was bound to be an adjustment period. 

Making the decision had helped tremendously. He had eased himself back into interactions with the normal world over a few days. He eventually started moving those interactions closer and closer to the castle. The idea of running into Gwen caused the reactions to come again, but the more he took it slowly, the better the conclusion of the episode became. 

He started out just walking near the outskirts of the castle, eventually moving to visiting the stables more often. He didn’t know why Merlin always complained about them so much. They really were quite pleasant after you got used to them. Arthur even took his gelding, given to him by his son, out for rides. He joined patrols and got to know the knights that were on the rotations. 

True to his word, Nicholas had varied the patrols and made them considerably harder to predict. Arthur was pleased with his son’s work. Soon, Arthur had met most of the knights and was no longer feeling any bodily reaction to being near the castle. He wandered closer to the grounds, testing and controlling any side affects. 

Now here he was, within the castle grounds, training knights and feeling himself. No pounding heart, headache, or anything else out of control. Even his thoughts of Gwen didn’t send him over the edge as they may have a few days ago. He didn’t understand why the reactions had only occurred after nearly meeting Gwen again. After nearly torturing himself with trying deduce the reason, Arthur had surrendered in the quest and simply decided that dealing with the problem was more important than diagnosing it. When Nicholas had invited him to train here instead of the field further out of the way, Arthur had agreed only somewhat reluctantly. He had hoped he was ready for this. And he was. 

Testing fate a bit, Arthur stole a look at the windows, searching as he used to for his queen. His eyes roved easily about, not expecting to see anything except perhaps a servant wander by. Relaxed, his eyes found the last window. His pulse picked up instantly. She was there. Walking by slowly, talking as she walked. Arthur recognized Nicholas at her side as they strode by the large windows. 

His body’s complaint at the feelings began again. Arthur took a breath and attempted to bring them under control the exact way that he had been practicing. His mind was racing out of control and he knew it. She was so beautiful. He watched the way her hands punctuated whatever she was saying, her curls bouncing as she nodded her head. A longing pulled at him, but he had nearly bested it. She disappeared around a corner. Arthur’s struggle came to an end as a final deep breath brought his heart rate under control. 

He was pleased with himself. That was record timing on settling his body back to normal, and this time he had even seen her. A marked improvement. A triumph really. Arthur was moments away from actually patting himself on the back. He was unstoppable, he was a victor, he was the once and future —

_Whoosh!_

He was an idiot. 

In his self congratulating at seeing his wife without nearly fainting or running off like a fool, he had entirely forgotten that he was in the middle of a training exercise. His trainee had done as instructed and used Arthur’s preoccupation to his advantage and had successfully knocked the feet out from under him. 

He rolled over to stare up at the sky while he recovered the breath that had been knocked from his body in his graceless fall. James suddenly loomed over him, a horrified expression on his face. 

“Sir Gwaine…” he said in a hushed tone, “are you alright? I’m sorry!” 

Arthur looked up at him. The stunned expression slipped off his face at the anxiety he was looking back at. 

“James,” he began, “never apologize for doing something right.” 

Delight replaced the horror on James’s face and he stood up a bit taller. 

Arthur held up a hand from the ground. 

“However, I’d appreciate it if you’d help me up.” 

After being pulled upright, Arthur came face to face with a laughing Fletch. Arthur congratulated James again before sending him off. Walking up to Fletch, Arthur socked him in the arm. 

“Very funny,” Arthur said to him. “I suppose I did deserve it for being distracted.”

Fletch tried to stifle the laughter. After failing the first time, he finally got it under control. 

“Forgive me, Sir Gwaine….but your face!” 

Arthur gave a sheepish smile. James had reminded him of the principle that Gwen had rediscovered in him: humility. 

“They are getting much better,” Arthur told Fletch, pleased. 

His companion nodded. “Indeed they are. We owe you even more thanks, if that is possible. You’ve only been here a short period of time, but the impact you’ve had has not gone unnoticed. The queen herself is anxious to meet you.” 

Arthur was prepared for the reaction this time. His success at his steady heart was gratifying, but this time he didn’t revel. 

“Indeed? I’m sure we will meet sometime,” he deflected smoothly, turning his head to watch the drills nearby. 

“I’m glad you’re excited. Tonight will do nicely.” 

Arthur’s head whipped back. 

“Tonight!” he cleared his throat. “I mean, tonight, really?” 

Fletch grinned amusedly back. 

“Yes, it is traditional for the queen to be present at a knighting ceremony. She wouldn’t miss yours, especially with everything you’ve done for Camelot.” 

Arthur’s face went blank. He had forgotten about the ceremony. Panic was running rampant through every corner of his mind. Tonight? He was to be reunited with Gwen tonight? Was he even sufficiently prepared? He couldn’t run from her a second time. He would never forgive himself. He may not get such an easy chance again. Instead of having to come up with a reason to see her, she was coming to an event specifically to see him. Well, not _him_ him. Sir Gwaine him. 

His resolve steeled then. He would do this. It was time. Past time. He was ready. 

Tonight he revealed himself to Gwen. Tonight he would hold her again. 

“I am looking forward to such an honor.”

Fletch was pleased, smiling and telling him grand stories about the ceremony. Arthur had conducted enough of them to be familiar with the details. He distractedly nodded and made the appropriate ahs and ohs. 

He could think of only one thing. His Guinevere. 

***

Arthur smoothed down his new knight’s uniform. His fingers brushed lovingly over the Pendragon crest. After all this time, it felt so spectacularly right to be back in the red and gold. The colors complimented him, he was wearing them, not the other way around. The cut was perfect, accentuating his tall frame and muscular build. His fingers left the embroidered crest to fall to the sides of his cape. It hugged his shoulders before cascading down to the floor. 

The emotion that Arthur felt to back to wearing what he was born to wear brought him nearly to the brink of tears. He controlled the over emoting that his body was still accustoming itself to. He had the flow of emotions and bodily response near to complete harmony now. 

He was nervous, too though. Absolutely he was. Gwen would be there tonight. Despite fearing that he may have another episode, Arthur knew that it was time. He couldn’t run from her again. Whether his body could handle the stress or not, his heart couldn’t anymore. He had to be with her again.

That didn’t stop the nerves, though. It had been a long time. Though Arthur had been reassured many times that Guinevere’s feelings for him still lived on as strong as they had twenty years ago, it wasn’t going to be easy to stand in front of her and try to explain everything. She would be happy, he knew it. But his return came with certain requirements that would be difficult to face. Namely, this was the time of Albion’s greatest need. They were likely in more trouble than many of them yet realized. So while the joy of Arthur’s return gave so much hope, it was also dampened with the impending doom and destruction that would likely follow. For the hundredth time since he had returned, Arthur wondered if he was up to treading the path that was laid before him. 

He shook his head. He had to focus. Their struggle was still beginning. He had to embrace the happiness when it came. He didn’t know how much of it they would be afforded as whatever war was brewing began to unfold. That was what it was - a war. The merciless tactics at attacking Camelot had already been demonstrated. But, for now, Arthur needed to be officially knighted…before meeting his queen again and revealing himself for what he was: the once and future king. 

His plan for this evening wasn’t even a plan. He would stand there and just…let her see that it was him? He had tried to come up with something better. This felt a bit like an ambush. Maybe he should try to intercept her before she was right in front of him, expected to acknowledge him as a new knight of the realm. Maybe he could steal away up to their chambers to try to catch her before she went down. Maybe he should just let it be a surprise. She would have to know sooner or later that he was the “Sir Gwaine” that everyone kept talking about. The news was bound to be a shock. He had maybe, sort of, been impersonating someone. Arthur grimaced. He didn’t like that word, impersonating. Plus, was it impersonating if the person didn’t really exist? It was more like assuming an identity. Yes, that was it. 

But what if Gwen was upset that he didn’t come up to the castle immediately and reveal himself to her the second he had returned? His mind raced with all the explanations. I didn’t know if you were even here. I didn’t know who I could trust. I wasn’t even sure if this city was still safe. The guards would never have just let me stroll into the castle. I didn’t want to announce to the whole world that I was alive and back just yet. I met our son. 

I met our son. 

Their son. How was Arthur going to tell Nicholas that he was his father? He had been spending more time with him, getting to know him. He was so impressed with their son. Impressed was not strong enough. He was completely captivated by the man that Gwen had raised. He was nothing short of incredible. How was he going to tell him that he had deceived him? Deceived him out of caution, but the point still stood. What was he going to do? 

Arthur stood up a little straighter. He would meet Gwen first and they would decide. Together, as with every other decision they always made. Their years of partnership still stood. For now, Arthur would just continue on. He had nearly told Nicholas a thousand times. It had never felt right, though. His wife would know what to do. She always did. 

It was time. He stole one last look at himself in the mirror before leaving the room and closing the door. 

***

Gwen finished sealing the letter, pressing her signet ring against the cooling red wax. Satisfied with that, she turned it over to address it. Her pen flourished against the paper as she finished. 

_Sir Leon of Camelot_

She placed the letter for Leon next to the other for Sir Percival, her two senior leaders in the field. She missed them. Her friends were more like brothers to her. They had been with her a long time. Not to mention that they were Arthur’s men. Hand chosen by him for good reason. They were loyal, strong, and brave. They had all grown very close long ago, when Arthur had openly presented her as his choice. They had always accepted her as their queen. After Arthur was gone, they did not leave her side for one moment. In fact, they had become even more fiercely protective of her. When Nicholas was born, they became loving and dutiful uncles. Their influence had helped shape Nicholas into the young man he was today. 

However much she missed Leon and Percival, their presence at the front lines was invaluable and necessary. They were the only two that she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she could trust implicitly. 

She stood, taking the letters with her. It was important that these went out tonight. She had been corresponding with them about the attack on Camelot and Nicholas’s finding that the men had suddenly appeared in the woods, and appeared to not come from the borders. This was important intelligence. They were now discussing what they should do next. Now that they knew that lax border security was not the problem, Gwen was considering calling them home. It may prove more valuable for them to be here in the city, where they could help repel any further future attacks. She would like for them to see the place that Nicholas had found. She had been there herself, to see the evidence of the disappearing trail. 

Just as she was about to ring for a messenger, there was an urgent knock at her door. She frowned at the demanding insistence of the knocking. Who could need her so urgently? 

“Come in,” she called. 

Her personal messenger practically burst though the door, looking for her in the large room. 

“Ah, Drake,” she said, calmed that it was only him, “I was just about to ring for you,” she gestured with the letters. 

Drake rushed up to her, and Gwen’s ease at it being him at her door dissipated in his hurry. 

He bowed quickly, “My lady, this came for you,” he help up a letter. “No one knows where it came from. One of the maids brought it to me, going on and on about a mysterious gentleman who said it was of the utmost importance that it reach you immediately.” 

Gwen took the letter, examining it. 

“And the gentleman?” 

Drake shook his head, “Gone.” 

“What of the maid? Could she describe him?” Gwen studied the seal on the letter. It had been stamped with a plain circle, no etching or crest. 

“I’m sorry, your majesty, but it was dark and he wore the hood of his cloak up to hide his face. She was too frightened to try to get a good look.” 

Gwen nodded in dismay. “We’ve no idea how he got into the castle?” 

“No, my queen,” Drake sounded embarrassed. Gwen was going to have to look into the guard that evening. A stranger should not have been able to slip into the castle so easily, not to mention escape without being seen. 

She turned the letter over. It was addressed. 

_Her Royal Highness Queen Guinevere Pendragon_

She looked back to Drake. 

“Quietly find Captain Leopold and instruct him to begin questioning the guards. Tell him to be discrete. The last thing we need is to start a panic, especially tonight. The knighting ceremony and celebration will continue as planned. However, all the guards must be spoken to. If we’re lucky, someone will have seen something.” 

Drake bowed and began to leave. Suddenly remembering the letters she had written, Gwen called him back. She held out the letters. 

“As soon as you leave instructions with Captain Leopold, you must depart with these letters at once. It’s important that Sirs Leon and Percival receive them as soon as possible.” 

“It will be done,” Drake reassured her. 

Gwen smiled at the man, he was always reliable. 

“Thank you, Drake.” 

He took his leave and Gwen went back to studying the letter that had been so mysteriously delivered to her. 

She sat back at the desk and stared at the letter a moment. Finally deciding she had to open it, she picked up her letter opener and broke the seal, slowly unfolding it. The writing was distinct and clear, looking carefully written and precise. 

_Queen Guinevere Pendragon,_

_I have information which you seek._

_Come to the place Nicholas showed you tonight at 9 if you wish to know how the men attacked your city._

_If you value your prince’s life, you will come alone._

The note was unsigned. Whoever had sent this knew that Nicholas was aware of the place in the forest where the mercenaries had arrived to attack Camelot. Gwen felt a chill go through her. Someone had been watching them. Worse still, they had threatened her son. 

She knew that this was likely a trap. A cryptic note meant to draw her away from the safety of the castle. She wouldn’t fall for this. And yet…what if this was a person meaning to help her? Even if it wasn’t, they had threatened Nicholas. She couldn’t stand idly by. 

After long minutes of wrestling with the decision, Gwen reluctantly had made one. She would have to go. Trap or not, this person knew more than they should. If she went only to discover if there was a traitor among them, that was important in and of itself. If this turned out to be legitimate, all the better. 

In any case, Guinevere Pendragon was far from helpless. She was a blacksmith’s daughter. She knew how to wield a sword long before she had married Arthur. After her marriage, she had practiced with Arthur a few times when they were alone. She had fought in the battle at Camlann that day all those years ago. 

After losing Arthur, Gwen was determined never to not be able to help again. She trained with Leon and Percival, after some convincing. Eventually she became quite involved in the knights’ training program. So yes, you could say that Gwen could take care of herself. Her mind was made up. 

She began preparing her things. The note had said 9 o’clock. She needed to leave shortly. it would take her about a half an hour to get there, and she still had to collect a horse. She paused in her preparatory thoughts. It was nearing 8 o’clock. That was when the knighting ceremony was set to begin. She would have to miss it. She didn’t know how she was going to explain that to Nicholas. She couldn’t think of that now. 

She would need to wear something practical, but not to the point that the person she was meeting would suspect she meant to fight them off. Choosing the correct appearance would be important to insuring her safety. She looked through her dresses, she needed something she could move easily in, but something with a wide skirt. She intended to wear a sword, but not to make that obvious. A wide skirt would enable her to cover it in combination with a cloak. 

After she changed, she put a few things together. She pulled the sword she kept in her room out from its hidden spot behind her bed frame. Gwen was always prepared. Guards were not infallible. This castle had been breached more than once in her lifetime. Including by her former mistress, Morgana. The name still pained Gwen. They had been as close as sisters at one point in their lives. She never could understand what had driven Morgana to hate her so. 

Regardless, Gwen had kept a sword reachable since Arthur had been gone. With him with her, she knew she was safe while she slept. Without him, Gwen had taken to sleeping with the knowledge that protection was a short distance away should she need it. 

She was ready. The door were mere paces away. She had to be off to get her horse to make it to the clearing in time. She scooped up the letter from her desk, meaning to bring it with her. Just as she was reaching for the knob, her door was pushed open. Startled, she jumped back a bit, not knowing what to expect. 

Gwen sighed in relief when Nicholas strode through the door, looking handsome in his official uniform. His boots were polished, and his usually tousled blond hair was combed, his crown sat atop his head. He looked regal and confident. 

“Mother, I’ve come to escort you,” he announced. 

Gwen just looked at him for a moment, taking in the crown prince standing before her. There was a part of her that still saw him as five years old, asking her if he and Fletch could play with Leon and Percival. Overcome with a swell of nostalgia and love, Gwen reached out a hand to cradle his face. 

“Nicholas, my boy,” she said fondly. 

Nick smiled at her, “What’s this all about?” 

He looked at what she was wearing. His eyes roved, taking in her simple dress. She subtly dropped the the letter behind the door as quietly as she could, hoping he wouldn’t see it. It wasn’t something she wanted to explain. She shifted her skirts to hide the blade she carried. 

“You’re not going to the ceremony wearing that, are you? Why are you wearing a cloak? The celebration is just down in the great hall.” 

She couldn’t tell him exactly what she was doing, but she could tell him enough. 

“I’m sorry, Nick. I can’t attend the ceremony tonight.” 

He was about to protest, but she cut off the words. 

“I’ve been called away on business. I must leave immediately if I am to be on time. There is someone important that I must meet with. Unfortunately they can’t come here.” 

Nick looked distressed.

“This is Sir Gwaine’s knighting ceremony. I thought you wanted to meet him as soon as you could. Can this business not wait? Who are you meeting with? Why can’t they come here?” 

The questions spilled out of him so rapidly Gwen almost didn’t catch them all. She cleared her face of emotion, trying to seem nonchalant, thinking quickly about what she would say. She didn’t want him to see that she was troubled. He would only insist on coming with her. Besides, if things went according to plan, she would be back in mere hours. 

“I know, and I’m sorry, Nick. I just can’t this time. This meeting is happening very soon. I really have to leave now. You can tell me all about it when I return. I’m sure Fletch will make it more fun for you than I could have.” 

She deliberately ignored the rest of his questions. Taking his arm, she walked him out of her chambers while pulling the door closed and proceeded to lead him toward the great hall. She hoped she would be able to distract him enough to let her leave without having to answer further questions. 

She chattered with small talk as they walked, steering the questions away from her meeting. 

“This is your first knighting ceremony in a while. You must be excited.” 

Nick smiled at that. 

“Yes, it has been a while. We haven’t found anyone ready for a knighthood in some time. We’ve never found anyone like Sir Gwaine. He must have been a knight in his kingdom before he left it. I can’t imagine otherwise, with his skill and experience.” 

Gwen’s ears perked a bit. Despite her preoccupation, she was interested to learn more about this stranger. She had continued convincing herself that this man was not anything like Arthur. Learning more about his past may help her distinguish and further prove this in her own mind. 

“Oh? What kingdom did he come from?” she asked Nick. 

His brow creased as he tried to recall. 

“You know, I’m not sure. He said he grew up in Camelot, though he hadn’t been back for some years. I suppose he must have gone away for a while before deciding that he needed to be back home,” Nick shrugged, “Wherever he was, I am glad he has returned.” 

The convincing was not going well. Gone away for a while? Grew up in Camelot? Gwen was fairly certain she would know this man, if he truly did grow up here and have the skills that her son described. She found it incredibly difficult to believe that such a man would have slipped past her notice. She frowned. 

“How old is this Sir Gwaine?”

Nick reasoned, “I’d say late twenties, early thirties. Why do you ask?”

That age would work. The timeline suggested possibility. Gwen wondered if her thoughts hadn’t been as crazy as she thought…maybe she should stay and meet this man. It was growing in importance in her mind.

The clock struck 8, tolling out the chimes. Gwen started slightly. It was already past time for her to leave. She would have to ride faster than she would like in the dark. 

Nick was still looking at her curiously. 

Gwen patted his arm quickly in a half hearted attempt at reassurance. 

“No reason, Nick. Just curious. Off with you now, you’re going to be late, hurry.” 

She gently pushed him off in the right direction, urging him to join the festivities. 

He went willingly, striding off. He stopped suddenly and looked back. 

“Mother, you will take guards won’t you?” 

She waved away his worries, “Of course, Nick.” 

She didn’t like lying, but she knew that he wouldn’t have let her go without thinking she would. 

He still looked worried, but Nick again moved off, calling back over his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you later, then.” 

She watched him walk away. “Yes, see you soon.” 

She waited until he had disappeared around corner. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from where he had turned away. Time was running low, she had to hurry. She strode off toward the stables, keeping the image of Nick’s smiling face in her mind. 

Arthur waited. He rubbed his hands together nervously, waiting for Nicholas and Guinevere to enter. He was right on time. He had decided to wait for Gwen to come to him. Okay…so truthfully he couldn’t work up the nerve to steal up to her rooms to see her first. He was ready to see her now, however. The time was so close. His stomach was is knots. 

The great hall was crowded with guests. There were knights roaming all about with other attendees. Arthur had been approached with congratulations from nearly everyone that seen him. Captain Leopold had found him earlier to offer his good wishes. He had been called off on an assignment and would not be able to stay for the actual ceremony. He hadn’t gone into details, but Arthur got the sense that it was of some import. He had been too excited and nervous to see Guinevere to dwell on it too much. 

Finally, Arthur saw Nicholas walk through the doorway, looking dashing in his official uniform and crown. Arthur took in the vision of his son, but his eyes immediately jumped behind him, expecting Gwen to follow him in. She wasn’t there. 

Arthur waited some more. This wouldn’t be the first time that his queen had been late. He smiled when he remembered a meeting at the round table years ago. He had sent Merlin looking for her for half the morning before she had appeared coming down the stairs in her red dress. 

He wasn’t concerned. Yet. 

Nicholas greeted several people in the room before coming to speak with him. Arthur’s eyes hadn’t left the doorway. 

“Sir Gwaine, today is a great day,” Nicholas said, holding out his arm in an invitation to shake. 

Arthur met his gaze and smiled, taking his arm. 

“Indeed, Prince Nicholas. I am honored to be here this evening.” 

“It is well deserved. I’m more than happy to have you officially joining our ranks,” Nicholas said pleasantly. “Well, I see no reason to delay. Shall we proceed? The sooner we have the ceremony completed, the sooner we can get on with the celebration,” he turned to lead the way to the front of the room.

Alarm pulsed through Arthur. 

“Is the queen not coming?” he winced at the hurried and seemingly too curious tone. 

Nicholas turned back, “Oh. I’m sorry, Sir Gwaine. Unfortunately, my mother has been called away on some business and regretfully will not be able to be here. She sends her regrets and well wishes. She hopes to meet you soon.” 

Arthur forced a smile while his heart dropped. 

“Of course,” he said as he followed Nicholas. 

No Gwen. Arthur knew that she had much more important matters to attend to. He could hardly expect her to stop everything to come to his knighting ceremony. A ceremony for someone she believed she had never met. He was sure there was a good reason, but he was of course disappointed. He was ready for tonight. He missed his queen. He ached for her. 

He would find the right moment. For now, he had to do his part in this ceremony. Being with Nicholas was important as well. His son was growing to know him, and that made Arthur happier than he could have asked for. 

Nicholas had reached the raised dais in the room before turning to face the crowd. 

“Friends, we are gathered here today to welcome a new knight into our kingdom and our hearts. Gwaine has proven himself an exceptional person. A man of honor, strength, and love for Camelot. He has already defended our people with distinguished service and selfless action. It is my honor today to be able to officially name him a protector of Camelot.” 

Nicholas waved him forward. Arthur took his place at the foot of the dais, bowing before looking up at his son. Nicholas smiled down at him before drawing his sword. Arthur watched as the polished steel caught the candlelight. 

“Gwaine, please kneel.” 

Arthur obediently, almost reverently, went to his knees before the crown prince of Camelot. 

Nicholas held the sword upright before him.

“Gwaine, do you so swear fealty the kingdom of Camelot and its people? Do you so swear to serve them with honor, honesty, and unfailing fortitude, to protect them with your very life if necessary, so help you God?” 

Arthur looked Nicholas in the eye. 

“I so swear,” he said clearly and with devotion. He meant the words. It was an oath he had sworn before, as knight, crown prince, and eventually king of Camelot. He meant the words then and he meant them now, with all his heart. 

Nicholas looked back proudly. He lifted his sworn, touching one shoulder and then the other. 

“Arise, Sir Gwaine, knight of Camelot.” 

This knighting ceremony somehow made Arthur feel different. Despite his oath and service to Camelot for many years before this, it felt even more important this time. He had returned to his home after so many years away. He had returned to once again serve his people. There was scarcely anything in the world he was more proud of than that. 

Arthur rose to cheers from around the great hall. He smiled and accepted everyone’s congratulations. 

“Let the celebrations begin!” Nicholas announced. 

The room immediately headed for the food that was laid out. The musicians struck up a merry tune and some couples began to dance. Arthur slowly made his way around the room, speaking with the guests and reveling in the moment. Something was bothering him though. He couldn’t say exactly what it was. A burning apprehension that was gnawing at his stomach. A worry that wouldn’t go away. He tried his best to ignore it and enjoy the celebration. After all, it was in his honor. It would have been rude not to greet everyone. 

After seeing more people than he could count, Arthur ran right into Fletch.

“Fletch! So good to see you. Thank you for coming.” 

The captain merrily shook his hand. 

“I would not have missed it, Sir Gwaine,” Fletch strained to get a better look around. “Unusual that Queen Guinevere isn’t here,” he said, a puzzled look crossing his face.

“Nicholas told me she had some business she needed to tend to,” Arthur tried not to look to sullen. 

Fletch’s brow crumpled in confusion. 

“That’s odd. I spoke to her but an hour ago. She was looking forward to it.”

Arthur just stared at Fletch. The worry flared again, much worse than before. 

Fletch was looking around again. He waved at someone across the room. 

“Nick! Over here.” 

Nicholas wound his way through the crowd to join his best friend at Arthur’s side.

“What is it that has you flagging me down from across the room, Fletch?” Nicholas asked good naturedly. 

Fletch leaned over to talk over the noise of the boisterous party. Arthur attempted to look like he wasn’t overly interested in Gwen’s whereabouts. 

“The queen isn’t here. I saw her earlier, she said she would attend.” 

Nick’s smile slipped slightly. “Yes, she was called away to a meeting.” 

Arthur’s attention snapped back, zeroing in. 

“A meeting? It’s rather late to be receiving visitors at the castle, is it not?” 

Both Fletch and Nicholas were looking at him interestedly now, he tried to tamp down his zeal, to make it seem like mere curiosity. 

“Actually,” Nick said, “the meeting was away from the castle. Whoever she was meeting apparently couldn’t come here. It seemed urgent. I couldn’t convince her to delay.” 

Arthur’s intuition flared, his alarm was reaching new heights. An urgent meeting away from the castle at this time of night? Something that couldn’t wait? Something wasn’t right. 

“Do you know who this meeting was with? Or where it was?” Arthur demanded. 

Nicholas stared at him, seeming to notice for the first time that Arthur was truly agitated by this news. Arthur no longer cared what Nicholas or Fletch thought about his behavior. This was too important. Arthur could see the worry beginning to grow in Nicholas’s eyes. 

“No. She didn’t say. She just kept saying that she had to leave right then.” 

Fletch jumped in with a question then. Arthur was ready to crash out of the room that very second. 

“Who went with her?” 

Panic welled up in Arthur. Who had Gwen taken with her? Nicholas and all the knights were here, at the celebration. 

Nicholas, too, was increasingly fidgety. 

“I made her promise to take guards with her…but I didn’t see her leave.” 

A sudden thought seized Arthur’s mind like a slap. Captain Leopold had been sent on a mission that he had not elaborated on. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong. The feeling Arthur had had earlier was now bubbling over. There were red flags flapping in his mind. He knew right then that this was dire. He couldn’t explain his connection with the feeling, but he knew he had to find Gwen. Find her immediately. 

“Nicholas, listen to me,” Arthur said quietly, but firmly. 

Nicholas’s blue eyes looked back him intently, entirely focused. 

“You need to find Captain Leopold right now. He was sent on a task earlier this evening. We need to know what it was. The queen is is danger. I can’t explain to you how I know this. I just do. We must find her immediately.” 

Nicholas waited a half a second, measuring the seriousness in Arthur’s eyes. It didn't take much convincing. Arthur knew that Nicholas had the same feeling as he did. 

Fletch, Nicholas, and Arthur set off to find Captain Leopold at once. They left quietly, not wanting to alert the guests that anything was amiss. 

It took them twenty minutes to find Leopold. He had been in a room in the upper corridors of the castle. 

Nicholas spoke to him. 

“Leopold, we need to know what my mother assigned you to do. It is most important.” 

Leopold looked between the three of them. 

“I was instructed to do this very quietly,” he began, looking between them carefully. Arthur knew that the only reason he was discussing this with them at all was because they had Nicholas with them. Arthur admired the man for his discretion. Clearly Gwen had ordered him that no one should know about this. 

“A man was able to enter and exit the castle tonight without being detected. The only reason we know he was here was because he delivered a letter to a maid for the queen. He then disappeared. I am questioning all the guards on duty to determine if anyone saw anything.”

He left the most important part of the task unspoken. Leopold was also seeking to know if any of the guards had allowed this mystery man passage. 

“A letter?” Arthur questioned. 

Leopold looked to Nicholas, who nodded. 

“Yes, Sir Gwaine. A letter. I know nothing more. I have almost completed my questioning. No one saw the man except the maid to whom he gave this letter. She didn’t see his face.” 

Arthur had already moved on. He turned to Nicholas. 

“Where did you last see her?” 

Leopold questioningly looked at Arthur. 

“Do you mean the maid?” 

Arthur’s gaze didn’t leave Nicholas. Fletch answered Leopold.

“No, the queen. She left the castle some time ago.” 

Leopold paled. 

Nicholas didn’t hesitate in his answer. 

“In the hallway near the great hall. I went to her chambers to walk her to the ceremony. It was there that she told me that she would not attend.” 

Arthur was already walking. 

The three men followed.

“Where are we going?” Fletch asked. 

“To my mother’s chambers,” Nicholas answered before Arthur could. 

“Perhaps there is some clue as to where she has gone there,” Arthur added. 

They hurried through the corridors. Arthur’s heart was pounding. Once again he was separated from Gwen, and this time he didn’t know what was keeping them apart. He needed to know where she had gone. 

They burst into the queen’s chambers. His chambers. These were the rooms that he had shared with Gwen for many years. This was where he had kissed her to win her back after foolishly breaking up with her in the name of being “appropriate”. This was where he had proposed to her for the second time. This was where they had built their life together. 

A part of him hoped to find her there, waiting, ready to demand why they had let themselves in. He knew it was a vain hope, but he hoped all the same. The room was empty. It looked no different than the last time he had seen it. The only difference was the new sheets on the bed. 

“Look for anything that could tell us where she went,” Arthur instructed. 

The men spread out, searching the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They looked for ten minutes before regrouping in the center, empty handed. Arthur was becoming more distressed by the minute. He had no way of knowing where Gwen could be meeting this person. What was he going to do? His hands ran through his hair, upset. He turned away from the others. When he did, his eyes caught on the open door. There was only one place they hadn’t looked. 

He strode over slowly, hoping that his feeling was correct. He pulled the door closed. There, behind what had been hidden by the open door was a letter on the floor. Arthur bent to pick it up. The seal was a plain circle. He turned it over. 

_Her Royal Highness Queen Guinevere Pendragon_

Arthur nearly tore the letter in his haste to get it open. He read it. He stood abruptly, handing it back to Nicholas. He estimated that she had been gone about 45 minutes by now. They could catch up fairly quickly if they rode hard. 

“Nick, get a company together at once. We must leave immediately.” Fletch and Leopold left instantly, ready to call the men together. Arthur and Nicholas were left alone in the room. 

Nicholas read the letter. Then he reread it. His face betrayed his panic. 

“She left for me,” his hand came up to his mouth, horrified. “She seemed so calm…”

Arthur felt sympathetic, but he was also in a hurry.

“Your mother is good with a sword. I am not surprised she thought she would be fine, despite the risk.” 

Nick shook his head. “She didn’t take any guards. Leopold checked.” 

Arthur reached out and put both hands on Nick’s shoulders.   
  
“I understand that this is difficult, but I need you to focus.” 

Nick’s eyes came up to his.

“Where did you take her? The note says to meet them in the place where you took her. Where is that?” 

Nicholas’s eyes went wide as he thought. 

“The clearing. The clearing in the woods that we discovered. I took her there to see the spot where the mercenaries entered Camelot.”

Nicholas grabbed Arthur’s arm.

“We don’t know if more enemies can enter that spot at will. She could be walking into a monstrous trap. We have to find her!” 

Arthur had already drawn this conclusion. He feared he would be too late…More than anything he feared that. 

“Nicholas, we are going to find your mother. She knew what she was potentially walking into. She left this castle prepared to deal with such a trap,” he was reassuring himself as much as Nicholas. 

“How could she? How could she not take anyone with her?” 

“Because,” Arthur whispered, “they threatened you; and that — that was the risk she was not willing to take.”

***

Gwen was reasonably sure that the clearing was not surrounded. She had circled the area twice, looking for any sign that an army awaited her. If one had, she had been ready to disappear back into the darkness. Taking the meeting to hopefully learn something about her enemy was one thing. Getting herself killed was quite another. 

The surrounding trees had been quiet. The only sound she could discern was the crickets. No one was hiding among the trees that she could see. 

It was time now. 9 o’clock, the designated hour of this meeting. Gwen left her horse a short walk away from the clearing. Walking in on foot would hopefully disarm her enemy’s suspicions and make them underestimate her. Hopefully they would think that she was too eager to heed their call and stay their threat to have thought ahead. 

Gwen was ready for this. Her sword hung reassuringly hidden at her side, and she knew how to use it. She stepped into the clearing. The moon was full, and the area was lit bright enough for her to see all the edges that led into the forest. She waited. It appeared that she was the first to arrive. She tucked her hands into the cloak, her fingers finding the hilt of her sword. 

After a few moments, she sensed the presence of another. It was a skill that she had learned from Arthur long ago. 

“I’ve come,” she said, without turning. “What is it that you’ve come to say?” 

The other person continued to move forward, slowly. When she knew that they were close enough for her to see, Gwen turned. She blinked in genuine surprise. A woman stood before her. 

This woman was young, perhaps in her mid twenties. She looked like a common woman, perhaps a farmer’s wife. She wore a plain brown dress that blew slightly in the evening breeze. Her hands were empty. Gwen couldn’t see any weapon. 

“Your highness,” the woman said quietly. Her eyes stayed trained on the ground. 

Gwen watched in interest as the woman bowed, seeming genuine, though nervous.

“What is your name?” Gwen asked gently. She didn’t want to frighten the woman. She was already shaking. 

At last the woman looked up. Gwen was taken aback by the fear in her eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Gwen reassured her. 

“I know that, my lady,” the woman nearly sniffled. “I cannot give my name. It’s forbidden.” 

Gwen was entirely taken aback. This was not what she had expected. A single woman who would barely look at her was the mysterious writer of the note she had received? This didn’t add up. 

“Alright,” Gwen continued carefully. “You said in your note that you had information.” 

The woman looked startled, a bit of a wild look entered her eyes. Gwen had to fight the urge to take a step back. This woman was not entirely stable. There was some sort of trauma that Gwen was privy to. She needed to be cautious here. 

Instead of pushing for an answer, Gwen just waited. She wanted to comfort this woman. Something had obviously frightened her. However, Gwen didn't dare touch her. She didn’t know how she would react to any action, so she stayed still. 

“You need to stop,” the woman said flatly. Suddenly she was staring right into Gwen’s eyes. 

“Stop what?” Gwen said slowly. 

“Looking for the master. Stop looking for the master,” the woman reiterated. 

“The master?” Gwen asked. 

“A darkness you cannot possibly imagine.” Gwen frowned. “You have no right to know his name.”

Those words…they sounded familiar. It came to her then. They were the words that Nicholas had said the mercenaries had spoken before they killed themselves rather than be taken prisoner the day of the attack. The exact words, in fact. 

“Who is this master? Why can I not know his name? Why does he not reveal it? Why can’t you tell me?” Gwen advanced on the woman as she volleyed questions back at her. 

The woman backed away and began to sob. 

“I won’t speak it. I won’t speak it…” her hands went to her head, gripping her hair. “The darkness. A darkness you cannot imagine.” 

Gwen was frustrated as she watched this woman sob and back away from her. She was clearly in the grip of madness. What had been done to her? 

“You have information. You must tell the information,” Gwen insisted. 

The sobbing cut off abruptly. 

“This is not the only place.” 

Gwen was even more bewildered at that statement. 

“What do you mean?” 

The women suddenly rushed at her, Gwen flew backwards, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword. The surprise had been enough to slow her to the point that the woman was able to grab at her shoulders, grasping chunks of Gwen’s hair in her fists. 

“This is not the only place!” she screamed. “You assume, Queen Guinevere Pendragon.” 

Gwen was frightened by the shouting in her face. Just as quickly as the woman had grabbed her, she released the queen. 

Her eyes went blank. They went flat, deadened. 

“Assume, indeed,” the woman’s voice had gone monotone, as if controlled by some outside force. It was no longer her own. “There are many ways into this little kingdom of yours, Queen Guinevere Pendragon. Were you so stupid as to believe that this was the only spot from which we could enter? Do not think I have not noticed the men you’ve been sending to this spot. You try to anticipate my movements.” 

Terror gripped Gwen. This was no longer the woman in front of her speaking. It was this darkness. This enemy that she could not see. 

“Who are you?” she whispered. 

The voice ignored her. 

“This is not my only gateway. There are many, many others. I will flood this land with enough force to crush you. Camelot will burn and I will take it from you. Just as I will take the entirety of this land. Albion will bow before me. But not before you are dead.” 

Gwen slowly began backing away. 

“The attack will come from all sides. You do not have the strength to oppose me. Surrender now, and perhaps I will spare your son.” 

Her throat constricted. This insane voice wanted Nicholas. It wanted everything. She would not abandon the whole of Albion by being the first to fall. 

“Never!” she shouted. “Camelot will stand, and Albion will band together. We will defeat you.” 

The woman let out a maniacal laugh. The hairs on Gwen’s arms stood on end. 

“Oh, little queen. You cannot oppose me. Very well, your son will die. Though not before he is witness to his birthright burning around him. He will lose everything he loves. Beginning with you.” 

Gwen’s hand, which had already been gripping her sword, moved to pull it swiftly in defense. 

The woman’s hand lifted, and suddenly Gwen was frozen in place. Her arm would not respond to her demand to lift the sword. Magic. She looked around desperately, trying to figure out a way to at least flee. She could not. She was stuck in place, at this possessed woman’s mercy. 

However, the woman did not move. After a few moments, Gwen couldn’t help but shout.

“What are you waiting for?”

It was probably wrong to goad your murderer, but Gwen couldn’t stand the suspense. 

“You are a coward, aren’t you? You do not show your true face, nor even announce your name. You are nothing but words.” 

If she was to die, she would learn the name of her killer. If it was the last thing she did. Which at this particular moment, it seemed like it would be. 

A twisted, amused smile came across the woman’s face. 

“No one may speak my name. Even if you are about to die. I will make you a promise, Queen Guinevere. Nicholas will know my name as I kill him. Everyone will know it once I reign supreme.”

The woman’s eyes were not on her as she said this. They watched something behind her. Gwen couldn’t turn her head to look. With dismay, she recognized the sound of a dagger sliding from its sheath. 

She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t even be able to see her murderer. That somehow made it worse. Waiting for her fate in that clearing, not being able to see who killed her. Dying without knowing. It was a cruel way to die. 

She thought of Nicholas. She thought of Merlin and Leon and Percival. But most of all she thought of Arthur. She would be with him again soon. They would reunite beyond the veil. If she was to die, at least there would be that. 

A crash sounded in the trees. How many men planned on killing her? Gwen thought. It seemed like more than one was entirely unnecessary. 

Through the din of sound that suddenly rang out, she heard a voice yell above it all. 

“Secure the queen!” 

She knew that voice. Was she sure that she was not already dead? She did a mental check. She didn’t appear to be dead. Her limbs were still there, still immobilized by whatever magic had a strangle hold over her. She sensed the man sent to kill her was close, she heard the rustle of fabric as he lunged for her, dagger raised to stab her in the back. 

A horse came tearing across the clearing, a sword was ripped from its scabbard, sending a ringing of steel sounding through the night air. Her murderer stretched his hand as far as he could, the knife tip met her at the same instant he was struck down by the rider’s sword. His last breath left him as he fell. His knife dragged down, ripping through her cloak, missing her skin by less than an inch. 

A gasp left her as Gwen realized that she had just escaped death by a margin so narrow it left her in shock. The woman tried to reach for her then, but in her haste, didn’t seem to see the oncoming horse. The steed clipped her in the shoulder, knocking her down, where she hit her head. At that moment, Gwen was free from the magic that held her in place, and her motion to draw her sword completed, the steel revealed. 

Gwen held her sword in front of her, ready to defend herself and hopefully avoid death yet again that night. 

The woman stirred, standing slowly. She looked down, her hands touching her torso, seemingly coming to herself. Her head snapped up. Her eyes were clear, entirely coherent. Gwen looked at her, seeing the true woman for the first time. 

“Your majesty!” the woman took a step toward her. Gwen held the sword up in warning, but somehow she knew that this woman was no longer a danger to her. 

The knights that had come for her were surrounding them, swords held aloft and ready to attack. 

The woman looked around frantically, “Your majesty, we don’t have much time. I don’t know how I’ve been freed from the darkness.”

Her gaze fell to the dead man behind Gwen. 

Tears began to drip down her face. 

“My husband…we had no choice. The darkness…”

The knights were ready to eliminate all threats now, and they advanced on the woman. 

“Hold!” Gwen screamed at them. She spotted Nicholas among them. She heard one of the knights behind her dismount hurriedly and head in her direction. 

“Tell me,” Gwen said, rushed. “Who is the darkness. Do you know his name?” 

The woman brought her eyes back to her. 

“No, I’m sorry, my queen. But I do know this. The great sorcerer Merlin — you must find him! He holds the key, but he cannot do it alone. Merlin needs help.”

“How? How do we help Merlin?” Gwen rushed toward the woman. “Do you know where he is? Where is Merlin? I must know where Merlin is!” She gripped the woman by the shoulders. 

“My children,” the woman cried. “Please, I cannot tell you more, or he will kill my children.” 

“We can protect them,” Gwen shook her. “You must tell me where Merlin is.” 

She opened her mouth reluctantly, “Merlin is —”

“DUCK!” Nicholas screamed. 

It was then that Gwen heard it. A crossbow bolt whistling through the air, headed straight for her. She ducked to the side, but not fast enough. The bolt ripped through her arm as she dove to the left, but it found home in the woman’s chest. 

“No!” the voice she knew called out. The pain in her arm was exquisite, she could feel the blood coursing down, soaking her dress. 

Before she could hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught her. Her protector fell to his knees, slowing her and avoiding her hitting her head. He sank down to sit as he pulled her into his chest. 

The shock of not hitting the grass took a moment to settle in. 

More arrows hissed through night air. Gwen heard battle cries as more men came out of the woods. This time they were not hers. 

Her savior screamed out, “Attack! Secure the clearing, protect the queen!” 

Camelot’s knights immediately engaged with the enemy. Because of their horses, they brought the fight to them long before the enemy got purchase in the clearing. They were driven back into the trees, where the fighting continued away from Guinevere and the man holding her. 

Gwen heard Nicholas order, “Keep one alive!” as the fighting shifted yet deeper into the forest, the enemy trying to utilize the trees to slow Camelot’s knights on horseback. 

“You’re safe,” the man told her, smoothing her hair away from her face with one hand before going to her arm to check the bleeding of her wound. Luckily for her, it looked worse than it actually was. “I’m not going to leave you. Never again. Never.” 

Never again. Gwen finally focused on the face above her. Their eyes met and locked.  


“Arthur,” she whispered. 

Her hand came up to cradle his face, feeling that he was, indeed, real and not a figment of her imagination. He was solid under her hand. He leaned into her touch. 

“My Guinevere,” he stroked her face as he stared down at her. 

“I knew it,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I knew it was you.” 

She brought her other hand up to grip his face between them and pull him down to her. 

They kissed. The world fell away. His relief, their passion, their long awaited reunion and never dying love blocking out all the rest. 

 


	9. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With an attempt on Queen Guinevere's life narrowly averted and Arthur and Gwen finally reunited, the Pendragons return to the castle to regroup. 
> 
> Arthur and Gwen fall back into old patterns and discuss the past that Arthur missed before wondering what to do about the future...and their son. 
> 
> And the real question: Where is Merlin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man you guys. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has been asking me to update this. I appreciate you all, and I hope you enjoy this next entry. 
> 
> The plot thickens!

They didn’t tarry in the clearing after the threat had dissipated. Arthur insisted upon an immediate departure once the enemy had either fled or been cut down by the Camelot guard. Nicholas had led the company back into the clearing upon the battle’s conclusion. Arthur could feel the frustration pulsing off of him from ten yards away.

Disappointment washed through Arthur as well. It seemed that too many had escaped. Too many had not paid with their lives for their treason. His fist clenched angrily. Gwen reached out from beside him to touch it gently, encouraging him to relax. He brushed his fingers against hers with gratitude, releasing his stiff fingers. 

She was standing next to him now, a portion of his ripped cape bound around the wound on her arm. Their joyous reunion had been like a shooting star - bright and warm, beautiful but ultimately swift. They were quick to remember that their son didn’t know that his father had returned, and it would be difficult to explain why they were embracing so familiarly. No, they had to break this news to Nicholas in their own way at the right time. They had decided then that it would be best to do it back at the castle, away from prying eyes. But tell him they must. 

Just as he was about to call out to ask, Nicholas reported.

“We killed quite a few, but the majority of them escaped our blades,” he ground out. 

Arthur returned, “Where did they go?” 

He didn’t think Camelot’s crown prince would easily have let them escape after they had tried to murder his mother. 

Nicholas slammed his sword back into the scabbard.

“Once they realized that they were heavily losing men in the battle, they began to retreat through the woods. We gave chase, but suddenly they disappeared. Vanished into the darkness. Likely the same mysterious way they appeared without us seeing them.”

He dismounted, pulling the reins over his horse’s head to lead him after him, patting his neck. 

Arthur scowled. “The same magic that allows them to trespass onto these lands at will. Or so it would seem. None alive?”

“None that I could catch,” Nicolas lamented, clearly frustrated with himself as he stood before Arthur. 

Arthur reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “You did everything you could. The queen lives because of your defense.”

Gwen didn’t hesitate. She pulled Nicholas into her arms. He immediately tightened their embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck, though he was much too tall to do it comfortably. 

“I thought we were going to lose you,” he whispered. 

“I’m still here,” Gwen comforted, stroking his hair at the nape of his neck. She suddenly laughed. How Arthur relished the sound, even if it did seem a little out of place in this somber moment. Nicholas also seemed confused, pulling back to look at his mother in the eyes. 

The queen shrugged. “You haven’t hugged me like that since you were a boy. I think the last time, if I’m remembering correctly, was when Leon told you that you couldn’t take Juniper with them on patrol when you were ten.” She smiled at the memory. 

“Juniper?” Arthur questioned, immediately leaping at the chance to know anything of his son’s childhood. 

Gwen put her hand to Nicholas’s cheek as he tried to hide his embarrassed grin.

“Juniper was Nicholas’s pony when he was young. A fat and fierce steed to be sure.” 

“She was fearless,” Nicholas defended, “and we definitely should have been allowed on that patrol. To be frank, I’m still a little upset with Uncle Leon.” 

Arthur could picture it. A smaller version of the knight before him atop a steadfast and stubborn pony, demanding that his uncle bring him along on his duties. The thought cheered the situation considerably, but the mention of the patrol reminded Arthur that they were not in friendly times. 

“I should like to hear about this pony once we are safely back in the castle. We cannot linger here. It isn’t safe for anyone.” His eyes roved the trees, suspicious of the shadows that seemed to hide their enemies all too well. 

Nicholas did a sweep as well. Though they were surrounded by their entire contingent, they dared not test fate any more than they had this night. They were lucky to have escaped with their lives, even if the sting of the enemy going uncaptured still festered. 

“Sir Gwaine is right,” Nicholas announced. “We depart for Camelot immediately. The queen shall ride in the middle of the formation.” 

Arthur looked to Gwen to find her looking back incredulously. 

“Sir Gwaine?” she said wryly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

Arthur winced and gave a slight shrug that he hoped only she saw. She gave an amused grin back. Nicholas, being oblivious to their private exchange interjected.

“Ah yes, mother I’d forgotten that you had never met Sir Gwaine, as you did not attend the knighting ceremony this evening,” he said as he strode to his horse’s side to mount fordeparture. Arthur moved to his horse as well as one of the knights towed forward Gwen’s mare, which had been retrieved from the surrounding area.

“I see,” Gwen said as she swung up into the saddle easily, her tone wry as she fought an outburst of laughter. “I owe Sir Gwaine much it would seem.”

Nicholas ordered the knights into formation and they closed in, creating a wall of muscle and steel. Gwen sobered quickly as the ring of defense tightened and she felt an echo of the fear she had experienced before they had arrived. 

“He is the reason we found you,” Nicholas said with seriousness. “Without him, I fear we may have been too late.” 

Arthur and Gwen’s eyes met across the distance between them. The idea of being too late hurt them both. There was more than once in both of their lifetimes that they had been to late. The last time had cost them far too many years. Years that they wished desperately they could have back. But they couldn’t, and being together now was a blessing beyond any they were likely to get again. 

“We can speak more of this inside the safety of Camelot’s walls,”Arthur said gently. “To Camelot!”

The company picked up the pace at his direction and they thundered away into the darkness toward home. 

***

They came back to a castle on high alert; but it seemed as though a collective sigh of relief settled over the entire structure as Nicholas called up to the gate guards to make way for the queen. 

The heavy gates groaned open and the horses passed through without breaking their stride until the solid thud behind them confirmed that they were sealed in. A steel cross beam was lowered into place immediately. Such a precaution wasn’t unwarranted, but the clanging sound felt like fear reverberating across the courtyard. 

The company came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and didn’t disperse or relax their guard. Arthur had to remind himself to let Nicholas help Gwen down. After all, to these men, they had only met for the first time briefly this evening. As much as he itched to be at her side constantly, it would not do to make such a scene here. He did, however, follow right behind them as they ascended into the castle proper. 

Gwen, for her part, seemed serene. Looking every bit the regal queen, she smiled at everyone who greeted her. It took Arthur a moment to remember that not everyone knew how dire the last few hours had been. They had kept their mission relatively quiet - on a need to know basis. Still, people were not stupid. The crown prince and an entire contingent do not just storm out of a knighting celebration for no reason. Still, that reason remained mysterious to onlookers, so a normal greeting to the queen was to be expected. The questions did spark in their eyes, though they dared not ask them. 

Gwen had always been an exceptional monarch, his perfect partner to complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses. But Arthur was feeling awed at the grace that she was displaying under this extreme pressure. She had just experienced a trauma, but to these guests in her home, she showed nothing but a calm and friendly exterior. Though she did not linger, she took time to say her hellos and “Thank you for coming,” or “So sorry to have missed it.” She was selling the portrayal of in control and secure. Arthur had never been more proud; for his wife had clearly remembered something that he had not: everyone in this castle was under suspicion this night. 

Watching Gwen navigate her way through the crowds gave him anxiety for two reasons. First, because he knew that there was a possibility that there was a traitor in their midst. He was ready to do away with the niceties and shove them to the side to usher Gwen up to their room and out of harm’s way as quickly as possible. He knew he couldn’t. He knew his role at this moment was dutiful knight and protector to a gracious host. 

The second reason for his anxiety…perhaps the secretly stronger reason — though he tried to suppress it — was that watching Gwen handle this situation with such aplomb made him see exactly how much she had grown in the time that he’d been away. And while he had such pride in her, a part of him was also terrified. Because in that time, she had continued to grow into the queen she was always meant to be. While he, beyond the veil, had time only to wait until he returned. And he wondered if he would be enough for her now. If this woman he loved so fiercely had outgrown him. 

Finally, they were past the crowds and were headed up to their chambers. As they approached the final set of stairs, Gwen looked back, searching for him as if worried he would no longer be there. The momentary panic in her eyes subsided as she saw him so close to her. She turned to Nicholas.

“Nick, I can manage with only a few from here. People will be suspicious if I have an entire army outside my door.”

Nicholas looked reluctant, but he could see his mother’s point. They were trying to keep this attempt on her life somewhat quiet. Having everyone know how nearly successful this assassination plot was would cause panic that they could not control. Such a situation was delicate and needed to be handled appropriately. 

Though he knew this, it was still difficult to allow his guard to lower enough to not be glaringly obvious in his discomfort. Finally, he nodded. Before he could assign anyone, Gwen spoke up again. 

“Fletch, James, and Gwaine are all that I require,” she said. 

Nicholas immediately opened his mouth to protest that that was too few, but Gwen raised her hand to gently touch his face and continued.

“Please, Nick. Please see to setting the rest of the men in positions throughout the castle that will allow them to be our eyes and ears everywhere. I’d like to know at once if our mysterious visitor returns with any more unsigned messages. 

Once you’ve done that, please find Captain Leopold and bring him to my chambers. I’d like to hear his report.”

Nicholas just nodded this time before motioning the three chosen men closer as Gwen waited a few short steps away. 

“Obviously,” Nicholas began, “be on your guard and overly cautious. I don’t expect anything else will go amiss tonight. Not after their failure and our strong response. But if this enemy has proved to be nothing else, it is cunning. I’ll return as quickly as possible. I’m counting on all of you.”

He looked each man in the eye with a nod. 

Fletch laid a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. James stood up straighter at Nicholas’s vote of confidence and trust. 

“You don’t need to worry sire,” Arthur said quietly. “We will not let the queen out of our sight. You will find her secure on your return.”

Nicholas looked back gratefully and extended his arm, which Arthur shook. He spared once last glance for Gwen before calling for his men to fall in behind him for their assignments. Fletcher and James returned to the queen to lead the way up the final staircase. Arthur trailed along behind her until they reached the door, at which he insisted on entering first to ensure the area was clear. Fletch followed him in while Gwen waited just outside the door with James.

After they had checked every conceivable hiding place and found it devoid of intruders, they returned to the hallway to pronounce the room safe. Gwen smiled at them and strode through the door calling, “Thank you gentlemen. You can remain here at the door. I’ll call should I need you.”

The other two bowed slightly and assumed their positions. Arthur, looking out of place for failing to bow, frowned after his wife. Fletch stole a curious glance at him before Gwen’s voice carried over to them again. 

“Except you, Sir Gwaine. I’d like to speak to you. Please come in, and close the door.” 

Arthur could feel the two men’s eyes on him as he walked into the room and closed the door behind his back. He stayed there, his back resting against it. She was there in the center of the room waiting. His heart pounded in his chest, but not in the painful way that his complaints had been as of late. It was as if being fully in Gwen’s presence had righted it — made him whole again. So while the sensations weren’t gone, Arthur welcomed them now; because it meant that he was truly with her. 

They stared at each other a moment. The first time they’d been allowed it in the light. Away from others’ notice, Arthur just drank her in. Really seeing her in her wholeness for the first time in too many years. Her eyes were raking over him with equal hunger. She was scared to look anywhere but at him. She was too afraid that he would suddenly disappear. That she had only imagined he was here. That her wishful thinking had finally taken over and the madness had won out. Truthfully, in that moment, if it was madness, she would have gladly succumbed. 

She lifted a hand out to him; an invitation. The spell was instantly broken and they rushed into each other’s arms, meeting halfway across the room. She felt his solidness against her and she melted into him, crying. He held her close, stroking her hair and breathing in her scent. He pulled back enough to see her face, gently bringing up a hand to wipe away her tears. 

“My Guinevere, you are safe now,” he whispered.

She clung to him as he kissed away the tears that his fingers had not caught. Her hands held his face so she could look into his eyes.

“I know,” she whispered back, her hand caressing his cheek. 

He smiled into her eyes as they roved his face. 

“Why the tears then, love?”

She pulled up onto her tip toes and kissed him then. He sank into the kiss blissfully, returning it with equal fervor. One hand fell to her waist to tug her closer. When they broke away, she rested her forehead against his. 

“Because,” she returned, “you’re here with me. Really here. And as it turns out, I’m not mad after all.”

His face lit up and a small chuckle escaped him. 

“Hmm…” he teased as he rested his hands at the small of her back. “Are you quite sure?”

She smiled back as she tightened her grip around his neck. 

“As I can feel you beneath my hands at this very moment, I am positive my lord.”

His embrace grew more snug at her back in response. 

“Indeed. I was afraid you were going to leave me out there,” he admitted with a small grimace. “I save the lady and she nearly leaves me out in the hall like one of the hounds.”

She leaned closer.

“You know, it doesn’t feel like so very long ago that I was the one in the hall waiting to be summoned inside by my king,” she looked up at him with loving eyes; remembering the days before they had shared this chamber. Before she was his wife. 

His hand came up to cup her face.

“You were always my queen. Long before I could make it so.” 

He kissed her again softly, relishing in his ability to do so. They moved farther into the room, holding hands before sitting down at the table. The mood grew a little heavier as they both realized that they needed to deal with the situation they had found themselves in. The state of the world as they knew it. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight, Arthur. I knew it was likely to be some sort of trap, but I was not prepared for what I found.” 

Arthur hadn’t let go of her hand. His thumb rubbed her knuckles soothingly.

“Tell me what happened,” he said gently. “Before we arrived. Who was the woman? What did she say? What drew you there; knowing it was likely meant to harm you?”

Gwen recounted every moment for Arthur. From the second that Drake had brought her the note up until he and Nick had come to her rescue. 

“The scariest part,” Gwen admittedly quietly, “was knowing that the woman was not herself. That she was controlled so completely by this…this beast that hunts us. If you could have seen her eyes, Arthur.” She shuddered. “The woman we saw just before she died was not there at all. There was nothing but him. This darkness that refuses to reveal his name. And the things he threatened…against this kingdom. Against our son…”

Arthur’s free hand cupped his chin in thought. 

“It is troubling. Everything we’ve seen with this enemy is shrouded in utter secrecy. His men appear to be almost entirely made up of mercenaries with no ties to any particular land. At least none that are immediately apparent. And we can’t keep one alive long enough to interrogate them to learn anything. Despite our son’s best efforts.”

They both fell into a frustrated silence. How could they fight an enemy they couldn’t see or even name?

Arthur broke the quiet. 

“He’s incredible, Gwen. Our son.”

Gwen had to smile at that. 

“He is like his father,” she declared proudly. 

He took her other hand in his. 

“I didn’t know…” he trailed off. 

She shook her head slightly. 

“I didn’t either. I didn’t find out until after…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. _“I didn't find out until after you were dead.”_

Though unspoken, he knew what she meant. He let the words hang between them before forging on. 

“I’m so sorry. That must have been…difficult. But he’s amazing, Gwen. Truly. In however short a time I’ve gotten to know him, I see a fine man. A fine man who will be a great king some day. Due to his mother.”

Gwen smiled at that. 

“And his very protective uncles! When I first found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. I already had a country to run alone. You were gone and I was…broken. But Merlin came back shortly after that along with Leon and Percival. And after getting a grip on myself with their help, I came to see what a blessing it was. You might not be there, but you’d left a piece of you with me.”

Arthur’s heart ached at hearing this vulnerable side of Gwen. Of her despair after his death. He felt the weight that he had left on her shoulders. Gwen squeezed his hands. 

“You had left us with peace, Arthur. The war was quickly quelled thereafter and the men helped me, supported me. When Nicholas was born…oh Arthur I wish you could have been there. He has your eyes - he looked so like you. The men all cried when they held him. Especially Merlin.”

A tear rolled down Arthur’s cheek at having missed the birth of his son. Having missed so much of his life felt like a punch to his gut. 

“Of course Merlin cried, I’m sure the clot pole blubbered,” Arthur joked. “And here I was thinking that Nick reminded me so much of you.”

She shook her head, laughing. “I feel like his half of me came out much later. He was identical to you when he was first born. Merlin, Leon, Percival, Gaius too before he passed on — they all treated him like their own son. I raised him with their help. I’m honestly surprised he hasn't guessed at your identity already. He grew up on stories of you. His uncles speak of practically nothing else.”

Arthur wasn’t very surprised however. He understood. It was one thing to hear of someone through stories and through people who knew him very well. It was quite another to expect a dead man to appear before him. To Nicholas, Arthur was more a myth than a man. The father that he never met. A great king who his mother pined for, but that he would never know. 

“The boy wouldn’t have expected me to appear, I’d wager,” Arthur reminded Gwen. 

She smiled, “Especially not carrying the name of his uncles’ brother in arms,” she raised an eyebrow. “Really Arthur, Gwaine?”

He shrugged his shoulders defensively. “It was the first name I could come up with on the spot. One’s brain is a little foggy after coming back to life. You know, from the other side.” 

Her smile wavered slightly. 

“It was not a name I’d heard in a while,” she admitted. 

At his eyes’ unasked question, Gwen realized that Arthur wouldn’t have known about Gwaine. They had last seen each other at the battle. 

“Morgana,” she said, the name feeling strange on her lips. She hadn’t spoken it in almost twenty years. Arthur tensed too, at the mention of his half sister who had been the cause of so much pain. 

“She tortured him…Percival was with him when he died,” she said quietly. 

They talked a bit more about what had transpired immediately after his death for a short while. About how Merlin, though wracked with guilt, had eventually returned to his rightful home in Camelot. How he’d confessed everything to Gwen and how they had helped each other through their grief. The path for the legalization of magic was realized - Merlin’s help at the battle of Camlann had done much to convince the populace that not all sorcerers were evil, despite his sister’s reign of terror. Merlin had been made the official Court Sorcerer and protected the kingdom against many threats over time. 

Arthur shook his head with a snort. “Imagine. Merlin with a title. And not just any title. Court Sorcerer.” He said this as a gentle rib, knowing how Merlin probably would have been bashful about it. He was proud of his friend. He had meant it when he forgave him that day. When he said thank you. He would never tell him so willingly, but Arthur didn’t know where he’d be without Merlin. Except for dead many times over long before he actually died. 

He missed his friend….who was mysteriously missing. 

“Guinevere, where is Merlin? I know you don’t know exactly where he is, or you wouldn’t have been so desperate for the woman tonight to tell you. But you must have some inclination as to why he went in the first place. Why isn’t he here at the palace?

I still haven’t forgiven him for not being there to meet me at Lake Avalon. I don’t care if he is Court Sorcerer. The man should know when his king needs him.”

Gwen chewed on her lip, and Arthur grew nervous. 

“Merlin has been missing for about six months. He went —”

Her words were cut off by a knock at the door. Her eyes grew wide. 

“It will be Nicholas,” she said in a rush, standing. Her hands ran nervously over her skirt. “We have to tell him about you, Arthur. Because I do not intend for you to leave my sight for a single second.”

He rose too, frustrated by the fact that he still hadn’t heard where Merlin had gone, but also nervous at the prospect of letting his son in on the fact that he was really his father. But he knew that Gwen was right. They had to tell him tonight. The danger would only continue to grow, and he had a right to know.

He took her hand. Now that they were together, he knew they could do anything. 

“We tell him tonight,” he agreed. “After we hear Captain Leopold’s report. Let’s take him somewhere safe from any possible eavesdropping.”

She nodded once. He didn’t doubt she knew the place he had in mind. 

“Come in, Nick,” she called out, taking one step ahead of him and letting his hand go for the moment. 

The door swung open to admit Captain Leopold, followed closely by their son. 

“Your majesty,” the captain bowed.

“Captain Leopold,” Gwen greeted. “Tell us what has transpired in my absence. What have we discovered about the intruder we had in the castle earlier this evening?” 

The older man shifted uncomfortably under all their gazes. Nicholas stood back, letting his mother take the lead. While he said nothing, Arthur knew that he was listening intently and studying the captain’s movements. 

Leopold rubbed the back of his neck, dismayed to have to bring so little news. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but no one saw much of anything. The intruder picked the best time to infiltrate. There were so many people in the castle tonight for the knighting ceremony that new faces were easily dismissed. I have a couple of knights and servants that think they might have seen him, but again, with so many coming in and out, they can’t be sure. No one saw his face.” 

Gwen paced in irritation. 

“And the girl? The maid.” 

Leopold shook his head. 

“She remembers nothing of consequence. She did draw this, however.” He held out a small piece of parchment to her. Gwen took it and unfolded it. The girl had drawn what she could see. Little more than a face obscured by a dark cloak hood. 

Gwen passed the sketch back to Arthur when he leaned over her shoulder to see. The paper in his hands was little more than a reminder that this castle was not as secure as he had hoped. 

“And the guard?” he asked.

Both the captain and Nicholas seemed slightly surprised by his interjection. Gwen paid their surprise no attention, only waited for their answer. She had easily fallen back into old habits. The two of them playing off each other and sharing the responsibility. 

“He only saw him from the back, if he really saw him at all.” 

Arthur didn’t care if it seemed strange for him to be so involved with the queen in his presence. Her safety and the safety of this kingdom were in jeopardy. 

“Which way was he going?”

“Towards the kitchen. He thought whoever it was may be a delivery man of some sort.”

Arthur looked to Gwen with a thoughtful, though dismayed expression. 

“What is it?” she asked him quietly. 

“You know what else lies in that direction of the castle.”

She stared back, unsure of his meaning. He sighed. It was an entrance that had been used by both good and evil. 

“The catacombs.”

She shook her head immediately. 

“I had it sealed years ago,” she insisted. “The only people who can get through there are Merlin and myself. No one else can pass without us.” 

“I led Fletch and his company back into the city through just such an entrance. It seemed as if it had been long forgotten.”

She had turned her back on the other two men in the room to huddle close to him to speak quietly. 

“Yes, some of the tunnels leading to the outer walls were left, and honestly, I may not know them all as you do. But the entrance into the catacombs, the entrance into the castle itself, was sealed by Merlin personally. It’s impossible,” she insisted. 

He nodded, but said anyway, “I want a guard placed near there. I don’t care how Merlin secured it. I will not take any chances.”

Nicholas and Leopold were staring at them. At their familiarity and whispered exchanges. Leopold’s eyes were thoughtful, and he seemed to be trying hard to remember something that had escaped him as he looked at Arthur. Nicholas on the other hand, seemed confused. Though he had come to respect, even rely on, the man he knew as Gwaine over the last few weeks, he didn’t see how his mother could share this much with a man she had just met. Although they seemed anything but strangers in front of him now. 

Perhaps they had met before, and his mother simply didn’t remember him until they met face to face. Although Sir Gwaine was not a man one easily forgot after meeting. The man was memorable in more ways than one. But still…even with a previous meeting, their ease together was odd. He shook his head. There was too much to think about at the moment beyond this small exchange. The way that Gwaine looked at his mother though…with such loyalty and protectiveness, but not deference. Almost as if…they were equals. 

His mother’s voice interrupted his flurry of thoughts.

“Place an extra guard near the entrance to the catacombs. What about the rest of them?”

He didn’t understand why she’d want someone place near the burial tombs. It was an odd place to station men, but he could tell she would brook no argument. 

“Defenses have been tripled. There are men at every critical juncture. We will not be taken by surprise again,” he assured her. 

Captain Leopold nodded his head in agreement. “Indeed, majesty. There is no safer place in Albion than in this castle.” 

His eyes flicked to Arthur as he nodded appreciatively to him. Nicholas too, turned to him as he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Thank you, Leopold,” Gwen said, “please get some rest. We will be convening the council in the morning. I would like you there.”

It took Leopold too long to answer, because in that moment he had realized something. He looked back and forth between Nicholas and Arthur. Once, twice. He remembered that he had to answer the queen. 

He looked straight at Arthur, standing directly behind her. 

“Thank you, your majesty.”

He bowed and took his leave, knowing as he did that Arthur and Nicholas were watching after him with identical eyes. 

***

Arthur knew the moment when Leopold had allowed himself to see the similarities between him and his son. It looked as though a veil had been removed between them in the captain’s eyes. Arthur knew that Leopold hadn’t seen it earlier because he wasn’t looking for it. Not truly seeing. It was sometimes hard to see what was right in front of you. But he saw it now. Arthur saw it in his eyes when he said “your majesty” to Gwen, but had looked at him instead. 

Arthur had looked back, and a sort of silent understanding passed between them. Leopold would say nothing. Not until the Pendragons were ready to break their silence on the issue. 

They were walking with Nicholas now, leading him down back corridors he likely had never seen. 

“Mother, where are we going?” he asked as his eyes roved passages he didn’t recognize. He had grown up in this castle, and yet these halls were unfamiliar. 

Gwen took his hand in reassurance. “We’re almost there, Nick.”

Arthur followed along, keeping a watchful eye behind them. There was no one in sight. The guards had not questioned them going off alone. The castle was in lock down and the queen hardly needed more than two escorts. Especially when one of them was her son. 

They reached the door. Gwen produced a key for the lock and then shoved against the door. It stuck slightly from disuse. The men shuffled in behind, Arthur lighting the sconces on the wall. The war room looked much unchanged from the last time he had seen it. This particular chamber was used when utter secrecy was required. It was smaller than the grand strategy room near the council chambers. This room had been used only by Arthur and Gwen’s most inner circle. Few knew of its existence, and of that few of a number of those men were now dead. The only left who knew of it were Merlin, Leon, and Percival. 

By the dust gathering on the maps on the table, this room hadn’t seen use in some time. Years. Arthur felt some relief at that, and yet sad too, because now with the times that were ahead, this room was sure to be in frequent use once again. 

Nicholas looked awestruck as he took in the space. The maps laid out on the table. The renderings of the castle in which he now stood. The battle plans so carefully strategized.

“This is a war room,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” Gwen replied softly. “One I haven’t been in for a long time. It was primarily in use during the great war.” 

Arthur broke in gently then. “It was reserved for very sensitive matters in times of dire need. To be used only by the Pendragons and their closest circle of brothers. Few know of its existence.”

Nicholas sputtered with questions, but couldn’t seem to get any of them out. How would Gwaine know this? Know of this secret room that his mother had never made known to him? His head was spinning. Both his mother and Gwaine looked at him with concern. 

“Nick, you should sit,” Gwen insisted, “we need to talk.”

Numbly, he sat in a dusty chair at the table. The other two followed suit, not minding the dirt. Gwen looked a little lost as to how to begin. She looked to Arthur helplessly. He took her hand. Nick stared. 

“Nick,” Arthur began slowly. “My name isn’t Gwaine.”

He waited. Wondering if that would be enough to set him off and demand to know why he’d been lied to. But his son was calm. Bewildered, sure, but in control and waiting. 

“Okay,” Nick said carefully. 

When he didn’t say more, Arthur continued. 

“My true name is Arthur.”

Nicholas’s eyes nearly doubled in size, but he remained quiet. Gwen squeezed his hand. 

“Pendragon. Arthur Pendragon of Camelot,” he finished. Nicholas’s breath stopped for a moment as he held it. 

Gwen took over for Arthur to finish the news. 

“Nick, Arthur is your father.”

Nick’s breath left him in a whoosh. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He whipped his head back and forth between his mother and father. His _father._ Could it be true? Nicholas studied his features. For the first time he saw it. The similarities between them. He touched his chin. His father’s chin. He looked into his eyes and saw irises identical to his own. He looked at his parents’ hands, nestled together on the table. 

He abruptly pushed away from his seat to stand. Arthur and Gwen looked up at him with worry in their eyes. Arthur was half poised to rise to stand at eye level with him. 

“Do you mean to tell me,” Nicholas croaked out, “that you are Arthur Pendragon? _The Arthur Pendragon?_ As in, the greatest king Camelot has ever known. The once and future king. The greatest warrior the land has ever seen. The man my uncles have been telling me of since birth? The man my mother has never stopped loving in these last twenty years? The man who died after the battle of Camlann…the man my Uncle Merlin still calls a dollop head.”

Arthur had been nodding along with the list until the last one. He rose with a groan. 

“Merlin,” he said with exasperation as Gwen tried to hide her smile behind her hand, “has a lot of nerve; that clot pole!” 

Nicholas started laughing. Arthur smiled and looked askance.

“He calls you that too,” Nicholas explained between huffs of breath. He sobered. “It really is you…”

He took a step closer, reaching out his hand. Arthur grasped his forearm, his other hand coming up to grip his shoulder. 

“It’s really me,” he returned. 

Nicholas laughed again and some tears escaped his eyes as he nearly tackled Arthur with a hug. Arthur returned the embrace, a few tears of his own shed as he held his son. Gwen rose and placed a hand on his back. 

“Father,” Nicholas cried out. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know if the prophecy was true. If Merlin was right or if it was just his own wishful thinking that you would return one day. My uncles all believed, but I didn’t. Not completely. Forgive me.”

Arthur, overcome with emotion, took a firmer grip on his son before pulling him back to look into his eyes. 

“My boy, there is nothing to forgive. And you really shouldn’t believe _everything_ your Uncle Merlin says,” he added, earning a light smack on the shoulder from Gwen. 

“What?” he asked Gwen, “Has Merlin become so very wise in my time away? Or does that cabbage head still come up with the most brilliant ideas to nearly get us killed? I can only imagine how much of history he’s changed in my absence.” He laughed; thinking how Merlin would have described their exploits and adventures to Nicholas. 

He looked back to the young prince, who was still staring at him in awe. 

“To be honest, you were quite the surprise for me as well,” he told him seriously. “I didn’t know about you until I arrived here in the city. Really until I first saw you in the battle.”

“How is it possible? That you’re back now?” he asked. 

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure, but I take it that this is the time of Albion’s greatest need. Which means we are in great danger. All of us. I had planned to ask Merlin about that very thing. And yet, he isn’t here. Also, where are Sirs Leon and Percival?”

The family resettled at the table. 

“Leon and Percival are off at the far borders on assignment,” Nicholas supplied. 

“I’ve recalled them,” Gwen told Arthur. “I sent word with Drake tonight that they were to return to Camelot at once,” she finished. “I am not sure they’ll be ready to meet you once again. They’ve been waiting for this moment a long time; hoping your return would happen within their lifetime. We will need our closest allies about us if we are to face what is coming.”

Arthur nodded before moving on to the most important ally they were still missing. 

“And Merlin?”

Both Gwen and Nicholas swallowed hard. It was Nick who answered. 

“Merlin had been anxious for the last year or so. He said that he could sense something was about to happen. There began to be small attacks on the defenses. Tests to see if Camelot had become weak in its decades of peace. When these attacks became stronger and more frequent, Merlin began visiting Lake Avalon at a minimum of twice a month. I didn’t understand why. At least, not at the time. I now understand that perhaps he was hoping that you would be recalled from the depths. 

But I suppose Merlin thought he couldn’t wait any longer. He returned to the castle one day and called a small meeting. Myself, Mother, Leon, and Percival. He said that something was wrong and that he needed to go to investigate. To stop it if he could. He refused to go into details, as if fearful that if he gave voice to his suspicions it would make them somehow appear…or worried that if we knew we would become even larger targets than we already were.”

Arthur squirmed a little in his seat at hearing this. Clearly Merlin’s distress must have been great for him to leave in such a manner without telling Gwen and the others the extent of his worries. The secrecy must have been necessary. And that is what made Arthur afraid. What was so dire that he couldn’t even tell Gwen? 

“At first he didn’t go far,” Nick continued, “and we received regular word from him. He seemed to be shoring up Camelot’s defenses. Magical and otherwise. Soon though, his travels became more widespread and word became less frequent. We worried, but only because he was so far from home alone. Then suddenly, about six months ago, he disappeared with no trace. We no longer received any word. We sent forces in search of him. Percival and Leon went themselves. I, however, was not allowed to join them despite my wishes,” Nick sent his mother a look that she returned levelly. Clearly there had been a discussion about this before that had not gone pleasantly. 

“And nothing?” Arthur questioned. “No one has seen or heard from him in six months? Where was he last?”

Both turned baleful eyes on him. 

“That’s the problem,” Gwen replied. “No one knows. His correspondence had become inconsistent. When scouts reached the area from which he had sent his last letter, he had been gone for some time. None knew where he had gone next. He has disappeared, and the attacks worsened. We’ve had no word, no clues, no hint of his reappearance.”

“Until tonight,” Arthur whispered. 

“Until tonight,” Gwen agreed,“I had not heard anyone speak of Merlin’s possible location. There has not been the ghost of a whisper. That woman knew something, but now she is dead and we are no closer to finding him.”

She said the last words miserably. Arthur took her hand and looked over at Nick, who was looking at him in shared misery with his mother. Arthur was quiet a moment, letting everything he’d heard sink in. A new determination settled over his features. 

“Well,” he said, “our path is clear before us. We must protect Camelot against this new threat — discover who wishes to destroy the peace that was so hard won. But most imperatively of all,” he paused for emphasis, “we must find Merlin. I have a feeling that we will not be able to do this without him.”


End file.
